THE HEALING HEART: Military and Pregnancy Romance

by Zelda Clemens

  She let him chase her until they were far from the others, and then she let him catch her. She slowed as she reached the underwater pyramid. The ancient, grand monument stood silent and imposing before them, but he had eyes only for her.

  He swam up from below her, gliding slowly between her legs. He paused to caress. His tongue flicked and licked her and the sensations of the warm muscle tingling with slight envelop of air sent a quiver through her. She held him with her legs and they turned slow summersaults, locked in liquid loving. He flitted and lapped her, and the water around them became charged with their passion. The light of the sun rolled in and out of her view as the man drove her deeper and deeper toward her joy.

  And then she wanted him. She twisted away and whirled, only to catch him all in her arms. He was there and ready with an embrace of soft iron. They kissed long and deep. They twisted and twined, arms and legs wrapped and clutching. They floated and twirled in the watery sky as they thrust and worked together in a rhythm of their own as Pennopeai wallowed and giggled in delight.

  *****

  She cradled him in the vast and glittering burial chamber of the sunken pyramid. He was exhausted and she had not remembered the strength of her own charms. He lay as one astonished. But he would recover. The ancient air in the crypt was stale but it would not harm him. She sat wondering what she should next do when the bubbles appeared at the edge of the pool.

  She flared her aura-light to see better. It was one of those men wearing those breathing things. She frowned, until he took off the strange face mask. It was the other one. The one with the little streaks of grey in his hair.

  “Nereid,” he said.

  She cocked her head. She looked at him long.

  “Panope,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said remembering. “That’s Greek.”

  “And the Iberians, in their tales would have called you Pennopeai.”

  “Yes,” she said smiling. “But this is not a fairytale and I am not Rumpelstiltskin. You don’t get my baby if you guess my name. Sorry.”

  “But she is not your baby Panope.”

  She frowned at him.

  “You’re confused,” the man said. “Understandable given the fact that even as you were taking corporal form in the body of my friend while people were about to kill you. I know that would throw me off a bit.”

  “But Samantha is--”

  “Samantha was just a vessel for you. Come with me and I will show you your real child.”

  “But I like this one. She’s very pretty and very clever and she doesn’t seem to mind . . .”

  “But I mind,” John said. “I mind very much.”

  “So? Who are you?”

  “Have you lost something Nereid?”

  She froze. She reached up. There was the crown. She wore her ring. Then she felt frantically in her hair, and then she glared at the man. She aimed her fingers at him and they became claw-like.

  “You stole it!” she cried drawing what power she had.

  “You lost it,” he said. “In your passions with my friend, it fell from your hair. I picked it up.”

  “Give it back!”

  “I will Nereid Panope,” he said. “If you come with me. Oh, and bring my friend Marc. He seems to have lost his gear.”

  ****

  Over the attending physician’s vehement protests, the man removed Iolanda’s life support. The chirps and beeps in the room went silent and there was an eerie quiet.

  “Without the breathing tube,” the man said. “She will die in minutes.”

  The three ignored him. Panope looked down at the desperate soul, then she looked to John. The man urged her on. She slid the ring off her finger and onto the dying girl’s. She nestled the tiara in her hair, and then she lay the scepter across her chest.

  The instant that she did, Samantha seemed to quiver. Marc rushed to her. He held her. She took a deep breath and then shivered. She was still naked. John wrapped his coat about her. He was about to speak when she held up her hand.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “Or I will be . . . but, Iolanda . . . Pennopeai . . . please . . .”

  The three waited. The moments were agonizing. Nothing was happening.

  “Grab the thing!” Samantha finally cried out. “I haven’t gone through all this so you can just lay there you stupid . . . ohhh!”

  Sam took the girl’s arms and placed her hands across the silver staff. The moment Iolanda touched it the blue gems began to glow softly. Even the doctor stared in wonder. In a moment the girl’s fingers grasped. The azurite flared and then the princess took a breath, then another. And then she drew in deep and she began to form words.

  “O que eu faço não é nada,” she breathed ever so softly, “a não ser para o meu filho.”

  “That which I do is nothing,” Samantha translated, “unless it be for my child.”

  ****

  “No offense, Samantha,” Iolanda Pennopeai said. “But this princess thing has got your actress beat, hands down. They tell me that just the ring itself is going to pay for the restoration of this old castle.”

  It was a week later and the four sat at a sidewalk cafe on the island finishing lunch. Iolanda was in a wheelchair. She would need a lot of physical therapy, before she could walk or swim, but her doctor was optimistic.

  “Tell me that you’re not going to sell it?” Sam gasped.

  “Merely collateral,” John said. “The princess has graciously allowed me to advise her financially.”

  “So,” she said changing her tone. “My babá, Mariazinha?”

  “I’m sorry,” Marc said. “She’ll live to stand trial”

  “She was really going to abandon her baby?” Sam asked.

  “She saw a hopeless, dying girl,” Marc said. “She just wanted the money. She didn’t know what the crown jewels could really do.”

  “But then how--” “There are more things in heaven and earth,” John said beginning the quote. “And I suspect that our young princess, trapped as she was drawing on every fiber of her soul to find something not dreamt of in our philosophies.”

  “Something like that,” Iolanda said, but would say no more.

  “But how did you guys know about that pyramid underwater?” Sam asked.

  “It’s been an internet fad for a while now,” Marc answered. “Navel sonar got a read on it a year ago. They’ve been trying to rustle up the funding to explore it. Then just a few weeks ago they spotted some activity around there. The memo crossed my desk. The way I figure it Maria and her gang were going to blow up their ship, then use the pyramid as a hideout till somebody could pick them up.”

  “Which begs the question, Samantha,” John chuckled, “as to how you might feel about the water now, particularly after your, um excursion.”

  “I still love the water,” she smiled kissing his cheek. “And I still love you.” Then she turned to Marc and kissed his cheek saying, “And I still love you.”

  But just then they heard the jingling bells of a man with a pushcart.

  “And Blue Moon ice-cream!”

  “Actresses,” Iolanda sighed.

  THE END

  Another bonus story is on the next page.

  Bonus Story 5 of 44

  Strange and Beautiful

  Description

  Tara has been away at college for a long time and she decides to spend the summer with her recently engaged mother in Miami. Little does she know that her mom’s fiancé lives in a gorgeous estate, where his son Noah also decides to spend the summer with his girlfriend, Denise.

  Tara is her usual shy and quiet self but she feels herself opening up to Noah in a way that feels wrong, but so right. He is immediately bewitched by the strange and beautiful girl who is to be his new stepsister, and soon sees that she is a better fit for him than Denise.

  Can they carry out their forbidden love in secret, or will they have to give each other up in the face of society’s morals?

  *****

  Tara read the address
from a text message her mom had sent her and repeated it to the cab driver, who nodded before driving off. As they drove through the city, Tara looked out of the window- everything was different here, gone were the high-rise buildings of New York City, and they were replaced by swanky houses that looked like they were straight out of a lifestyle magazine. She had never been to Miami before, and she wondered how her mom had ended up here of all places.

  “Are you new around here?” The cab driver asked, glancing at her in the rear view mirror, and she nodded as she said, “Yeah, I just graduated from college in New York, and I’m visiting my mom - she just moved here a few months ago.”

  The driver nodded and said, “I used to work in New York a few years ago, I missed the noise once I moved here, but all cities are the same in a way.”

  Tara smiled politely and then looked out of the window again, not really in the mood to talk. She didn’t get on well with new people, and liked to keep to herself. She glanced down at her phone, she had a map of Miami open on the screen, just so she knew that they were headed in the right direction and the cab driver wasn’t planning on murdering her in some dark alleyway.

  They drove on in silence for a while until the cab pulled over outside a giant sprawling mansion. “This is it, miss,” the cab driver said cheerfully, and Tara stared at the house before she checked the address again. “Are- Are you sure this is the right place?” She said uncertainly, peering out at the palatial house with tall gates guarding the estate, enclosing enormous lawns and lush gardens leading up to the mammoth structure.

  The driver assured her that this was the address, and Tara got out uncertainly, lifting her suitcase out of the cab as she dragged it over to the gate and rang the doorbell. An intercom buzzed and a distinguished sounding voice said, “Yes?” Tara leaned in and hesitantly said, “This is Tara Haverford, um- I’m Eileen’s daughter?” She bit her lip nervously as there was a slight pause before the voice responded, “Of course, please come in, Tara.”

  The gates swung open automatically and Tara nervously walked in through them, turning around to see the cab drive off as the gates swung shut again. She dragged her suitcase slowly along the garden path leading up to the great house which was actually a lot farther away than it seemed. On the way, Tara spotted three greenhouses, a few gazebos and an outdoor seating arrangement that looked as grand as though it were for a very expensive wedding. Finally, Tara stood before the front door, made of polished wood with a large brass lion head as the knocker.

  A tall man answered the door, and when he spoke, Tara recognized him as the distinguished-sounding man who had spoken over the intercom. “Miss Haverford, welcome. I’m Graham, the butler,” he said as he lifted Tara’s suitcase and gestured her inside. She walked in, suddenly very aware of the ratty plaid shirt she wore and her scuffed sneakers. She felt as though she ought to wear nothing less regal than a ball-gown and a string of pearls in a house like this. Suddenly, there were footsteps behind her and Tara turned to see her mother hurrying down a great staircase with her arms thrown wide open as she rushed towards Tara and buried her in a giant embrace.

  “Darling,” she squealed, “I’m so glad you made it.” She held Tara at an arm’s distance and said, “Oh, your hair’s shorter- why did you cut it? I liked it long; it hid your shoulders, sweetie.” Tara forced a tight smile as she wriggled out of her mother’s grip and ran her fingers through her blonde, shoulder length waves. “I like it this way,” she said almost defensively but her mother ignored her and turned to Graham. “Do you know when Paul gets back?” The butler nodded and said “This evening, madam.” Her mother thanked him and then led Tara into the living room, “Isn’t this place just wild? I would never have though I’d end up living in a house like this.”

  Tara looked around and said, “I thought I had the wrong address when the cab pulled up.” Her mother clicked her tongue and said, “Now Tara, I told you I could come pick you up-” and Tara shook her head, “No, that’s not what I meant to-” but she stopped, knowing her mother would only hear what she wanted to anyway.

  Their relationship had been difficult ever since Tara’s father had left when she was fifteen. Tara looked like her dad- blonde and tall, with rounded features, broad shoulders and an ample amount of flesh on her bones.

  Eileen, on the other hand, was petite and conventionally beautiful with her sleek dark hair, small rosebud mouth, and elegantly shaped hands and feet; and she seemed to constantly bemoan the way her daughter looked, often cushioning severe insults as motherly concern. Tara had grown up her whole life hearing things like, “Darling you’d be very pretty if you lost a few pounds,” and “I’m just worried about your health, I promise.”

  Tara had, over the years, learned to block these things out, and had struggled very hard to start her own personal revolution of loving herself, curves and all. Tara was quietly thinking this to herself when there was a high tinkling laugh and a young couple walked in arm-in arm, both breathtakingly gorgeous and Tara stared as the girl stopped laughing and said, “Sorry, didn’t know we had company.”

  *****

  Eileen stood up and said, “This is my daughter, Tara. Darling, this is Noah, Paul’s son, and his girlfriend- um?” The girl smiled cattily as she said, “Denise,” and stuck her hand out. Tara stood up and shook her hand hesitantly as she said, “It’s nice to nice to meet you both.” Noah was looking at her as a cat might regard a strange new object and said, “Yes, pleasure,” before leading Denise out through large French windows towards a glimmering swimming pool. Tara looked at her mother who smiled tightly and said, “Those two just got here a few days ago, I haven’t really gotten the chance to- you know.” Tara nodded and sat back down, “Mom, are you happy?” Eileen looked at her daughter, marveling at how grown-up she looked and said, “I’m really happy that you’re here. Are you hungry? Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

  Tara knew not to push her and just followed her quietly into the kitchen. As they passed the French windows, Tara glanced out and saw Denise diving into the pool as Noah stood on the deck and pulled his shirt off over his head. The world seemed to stop turning in that moment, and all Tara could see was Noah, with his tanned skin and perfectly sculpted body. He laughed at something Denise said, and Tara saw that he had dimples when he smiled, and chiseled cheekbones when he didn’t. “Tara?” Her mother said, and Tara quickly snapped out of it, “I was looking at the pool,” she said quietly, and Eileen nodded, “Yeah the whole place is really beautiful, I’ll show you around after lunch.”

  There was a matronly looking woman in the kitchen and she smiled as Tara and Eileen walked in. “Miss Eileen, you never told me your daughter was this beautiful,” she said smiling at Tara, who smiled back and said, “Hi, I’m Tara.” The woman wiped her hands on her apron and shook Tara’s hand as she said, “And I’m Dorothy, I manage the household. Now sit down, lunch is almost ready.”

  Tara and Eileen sat at the long dining table just outside the swinging door of the kitchen and Tara already felt as though she was lost in the gigantic house.

  “How any people work here?” Tara asked her mother in a low voice and Eileen shrugged and said, “There’s the butler, there’s Dorothy, there are two chauffeurs and a maid. And then there are the gardeners, the pool boy, the cook and Freddie. He’s sort of the errand boy, and does odd jobs around the estate.”

  Tara raised her eyebrows and said, “God Mom, you’re living at Downton Abbey. I mean, how did this even happen? What’s Paul like?” Her mother smiled, but Tara still thought she looked a little sad as she said, “I met him at a bookstore- I had no idea about any of this. He told me after our fourth date, and I was already- Tara you know this isn’t about the money right?” She whispered the last part almost urgently, as though she had been dying to ask her daughter this question.

  “Of course,” Tara said, surprised, and then leaned in, placing her hand on her mom’s wrist as she said more earnestly, “Of course I know that Mom, I never for one second th
ought that-” but she stopped speaking when Denise ran in giggling, her hair soaking wet, and Noah strolled in after her with a towel around his shoulders. He had put on another shirt, to Tara’s disappointment, and sat down right opposite her as Dorothy pushed through the kitchen door holding a large platter of chicken. “Tara dear, do you eat chicken? Is there anything else you would like?” I shook my head and said, “Chicken’s fine, thank you.” I felt eyes on me and I glanced up at Noah, but he was busy helping himself to some food. I looked around and saw Denise staring at me with a look of contempt across her pretty features.

  She tossed her long light brown hair and Noah laughed as he said, “Denise, you’re soaking everyone, stop.” She turned her bright green eyes away from Tara and towards Noah as she smiled and said, “Sorry, I don’t know what I’m going to eat- I’m vegetarian, did you forget to tell the cook?” Noah looked at Dorothy who quickly said, “There’s some vegetable lasagna as well, I’ll bring it out,” and then hurried into the kitchen. Tara caught Noah’s eye, who smiled with his mouth full and Tara couldn’t help but smile back.

  Denise must have caught the look that passed between the two of them because she then loudly said, “So Tara, what do you do?” her tone thinly veiling a threat. Tara had barely registered that she was being spoken to when Eileen happily said, “Tara just graduated from NYU- she’s a writer.” Tara glanced back down at her plate as Noah softly said, “What do you write?” His voice was sweet, yet commanding and Tara’s eyes fluttered up again as she said, “Um, I write short stories, and poetry- I actually studied journalism at school though.” Noah nodded and resumed eating, and she wondered if he was just asking to be polite. They ate lunch with little bits of conversation floating through the air, but with a general tone of discomfort on all their parts.

  Tara looked at her mother and wondered how she would fit in here, and why Paul wasn’t around to help her settle in. “So tell me about Paul,” Tara said after lunch, after she walked with her mother around the garden, admiring the sunflowers peeking out through the greenhouse glass. “He’s sweet, Tara, he really is and he’s nice to me. Sometimes,” she paused and then said, “Sometimes, all you can really ask for is someone to be nice to you and want your company.”