Starcrossed Hearts

by Star Crossed Hearts (lit)

  "No, I don’t know that, and if you hear from her, find me." Mac sighed. "Please?"

  "If you’re so worried, why don’t you just put your self-righteous ass on a jet and come home?"

  "I’ll think on that," Mac replied, rubbing his eyes. "And Dane--I’m glad you’re…not dead."

  Mac hung up the phone carefully. His seventh floor hotel room faced the sea, and he could see the lights of the boats in the harbor flickering on in the darkness. Opening the patio doors, he stepped out into the cool ocean breeze and leaned on the rail.

  Maybe I should go home, he thought. Nothing is as important as Jessica, certainly not this film. He was behaving just the way Dane had in Amande, putting a motion picture before Jessica’s well-being. It didn’t take long for the decision to be made. He’d call Sal, then Air New Zealand. He’d be home by tomorrow night.

  While listening to Sal’s phone ring unanswered in his ear, Mac started at the sound of a knock at the door.

  A bellman handed him a small, pink envelope. Puzzled, he carefully pulled out a folded sheet of delicate parchment and opened it. The sight of the familiar handwriting stopped the beating of his heart momentarily.

  "Join me for Cookies ‘N Cream?"

  One simple line. The letterhead was magenta printed in script: "Jessica Lynne MacKendall"

  The bellman waited expectantly. Mac’s face had reddened beneath his tanned skin.

  "Uh…a lady gave you this? A…pregnant lady?" he stammered.

  "She said to tell you she’s in the dining room downstairs. And she’s with child, yes."

  Mac grasped the man’s shoulder. "Really? She’s here?"

  "Yes, sir, she gave me the envelope herself."

  "Right, right. Uh…I’m coming. I…need to change, comb my hair…uh, don’t let her leave!" Mac hastily pressed ten dollars into the man’s hand, then added another five. "Tie her down if she tries to go."

  She’d purposely chosen a small, secluded table in the corner where she could watch the entrance undisturbed. Shifting uneasily in her chair, Jessica straightened the new pink silk dress for the third time. Her heart fluttered impatiently in her chest, her fingers nervously turning her water glass before her.

  Jessie jumped a little with each entering patron. This is silly! He’s my husband. He’s my lover. He’s our baby’s father.

  What if he didn’t come? What if he was still angry? What if…what if he’d grown a mustache and was still the most gorgeous man she’d ever met?

  He approached her, walking casually with his hands characteristically safe within his pockets; his crisp, black, long-sleeved shirt tucked neatly into cream-colored pleated slacks. He’d pushed the sleeves of the matching jacket up, the cuffs of the cotton shirt turned back over them. He looked more than sharp to her adoring eyes.

  She was reminded of the night she’d been invited to his home after returning from Amande, when they’d reconciled their differences and had finally brought their love to the surface.

  Mac stopped at the table and stared down at her. The moment of truth was upon Jessica; would he lash out, or…

  "Stand up," he directed her. To support his request, he pulled his hand from his pocket and offered it to her.

  Her heart now thumping madly, Jessica took his hand, holding it tightly for just a moment before rising as gracefully as her unwieldy shape would allow.

  Mac’s eyes slowly studied the entire length of her; he tilted his head slightly in an appraising manner, his gaze finally resting upon her tummy. Letting go of her hand, he placed one of his on each side of her abdomen, as though he could almost take the sleeping child from her and hold it in his own arms.

  "My, my…" he said quietly, now lifting his eyes to her face. "It’s happening, isn’t it?" She had grown only a little when he’d left her in August. It was now almost November. Mac swallowed hard, his gesture telling her he’d suffered his own qualms about finally seeing her again. Suffered them and had overcome them; he was here.

  At last, he allowed a small smile to form on his lips. With shaky determination, Jessica reached slowly toward him, resting her hands on his jacket lapels and then sliding them up to his shoulders. Her eyes could not get enough of his face, his soft brown eyes filled with love and forgiveness. Everything she’d carefully planned, rehearsed--all was gone now from her mind as she struggled to find words for her sky-rocketing emotions. But it was Mac who first found a voice.

  "Would it be okay to save the ice cream for later?"

  Dumbly, Jessica nodded, wondering what else he had in mind as he led her from the dining room and through the lobby to the front door.

  On the sidewalk, he put his arm around her and walked her down the short distance to the waterfront.

  "This is Oriental Bay," he told her, sweeping his arm in an encompassing gesture. "Out there, Cook’s Strait. It’s always windy here," he explained, stripping off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders protectively.

  "Reminds me a little of San Francisco," she said, noticing the multitude of hills surrounding the bay, and the cable cars clinging to the apparently sheer slopes.

  They walked a little farther until Mac stopped to lean against a rail bearing coin operated telescopes used by a multitude of tourists during the day; the chilly October air prevented more visitors at night, and save for a few passersby, they were alone.

  He leaned casually against the rail, watching as she daintily slipped her arms into his tailored jacket and tried in vain to button it over her protruding stomach. She flashed him a look of mock-panic, and he shook his head sadly in amusement. Pulling a coin from his pocket, he slipped it into the telescope. Jessica looked through the eyepiece with delight at the romantically lit boats in the harbor.

  "It’s beautiful," she sighed, moving aside so he could take a look.

  "I’ve seen it. I’ve…been here awhile."

  Jessica bent to look again, absorbing the sights of this sparkling city until the shutter at last eclipsed her view. She straightened up and faced the water.

  "So, I understand you want to fight with me?" he questioned to her back.

  Jessica turned sharply to face him, staring at him, evaluating his meaning. His arms were crossed against his chest, his look deceivingly cool. No, she did not want to fight.

  She went to him, not intending to get so close as to touch but forgot about her recent frontal extension; her abdomen brushed against his trousers and she pressed her lips together to stifle a smile. Pretending to straighten his already perfect collar, she used her false intention as a means of busying her anxious fingers as she spoke.

  "Actually, fighting with you is not what I had in mind," she said softly.

  "You, uh, want to dispense with the fighting and go right to the making up?" Mac queried, shuddering a little as she dug her fingers into the long hair at the back of his neck. She was nodding, and he uncrossed his arms, slipping them inside the jacket and around her back, pulling her just a little closer to him. "You’re sure now, there’s a lot of terrible, mean things we could say to each other, if you want."

  She stopped moving, again to check his face. Mac sat back against the rail behind him, now eye level with Jessie.

  "I’m sure," she managed to choke, her mind frenzied with anticipation. He was doing it again; making her wait, again. Was he teasing or punishing her? Abruptly she pulled away from him, walking several steps before turning to face him again. "Are you going to kiss me or stand here all night discussing whether or not we should have a fight? Do you want to fight?"

  "Only if you do, ma petite. Deciding whether to fight seems easy after the last few weeks, when I’ve been wondering if you even wanted to stay married."

  "Oh, Mac…" she said softly, now running to him and throwing her arms around his neck. "Staying married is the easy part."

  Now he embraced her in earnest; the game was over. His lips hungrily sought hers in the kiss that had been waiting ten weeks to happen. A mutual, satisfying exhilaration filled both of them to the li
mit; and after kissing her face and neck a thousand times over, he stopped and peered with glistening eyes into hers. He swallowed, then sniffed, turning his lips inside and biting them as he nodded slowly at some unshared thought.

  Jessica’s own lips quivered as she tenderly ran her thumb along his lower eyelid, solemnly wiping away an errant tear. He sniffed again.

  "If you think this is bad, you should have been here when I received your letter," he confessed, chuckling in embarrassment.

  Now he had her crying, too. "We really do need to talk about it, don’t we?" she asked quietly.

  "Yeah, we do. But not now. Right now, we need to make love."

  She pressed her face against his shoulder and he kissed her hair affectionately.

  "C’mon," he coaxed, turning her back toward the hotel.

  ~ * ~

  Jessica was nude except for the brief, blue panties he couldn’t even see. Mac stared at her form, lit by the glow of the soft city lights emanating from the picture window beside the bed.

  "How…? I’m not sure how to do this…" he was saying, but he reached for her anyway and found a way to share his undying love with her. Despite the change in her shape, she was the same exciting, intriguing woman he’d fallen so completely in love with months before; her impending motherhood only served to enhance his devoted attentiveness to her pleasure. The weeks, no, months that had passed since they’d been together amplified their desire to share their passion with one another and no one else.

  Jessica was particularly newly enamored with her husband, his physique now firmer and even more tanned than she remembered; the new mustache tickled her in an almost erotic way. Mac was more exciting than ever. She only regretted her ungainly figure; she would have liked to have been slender and svelte for this new beginning.

  He was sitting lightly on top of her, knees bent, poised on her thighs as she lay back in euphoric relaxation. His hands were again resting on her stomach, his face wearing a comic, expectant grin.

  "God--this is incredible…" he whispered as the baby pressed first this foot, then that, against his palms. Mac’s face was alight with wonderment.

  Jessica giggled up at him.

  "Am I hurting you?"

  "No," she laughed, placing her hands over his as he waited for the child to move again. The dim light from the lamp on the nightstand cast a warm glow on their adolescent expressions as they giggled and touched each other in comfortable intimacy.

  With great care, Mac began massaging her as he remained sitting above her, his fingers sliding upward to caress first her shoulders and then her breasts, now full and firm with the promise of motherhood. His touch was not in any way erotic or sexual, only loving and comforting, and soon his hands returned to again wait for the tiny infant to squirm once more.

  "I can’t stop," he told her excitedly.

  "Surely you experienced this before," she reminded him, "with Linda?"

  Mac scoffed. "Linda was like a shrew when she was pregnant. Her three favorite words were, ‘Don’t Touch Me.’ And she hid herself. She didn’t want me looking at her like that."

  "How sad," Jessica murmured.

  "She wasn’t particularly fond of sex to begin with," he explained. "To her defense, I have to tell you she’d had a few bad experiences as a girl. I guess her past made it nearly impossible for her to…relax and enjoy making love."

  "I’m sure it had nothing to do with you," she teased lightly, running a finger down his stomach and past his naval.

  "Let’s just say I made a gallant effort."

  Soon, he tired of sitting up and fell down beside her on the bed. She turned on her side to face him.

  "Do you want to talk, now?" she asked tentatively.

  "I thought we were talking," he teased.

  "You know what I mean, Mac."

  "You want to talk about Dane. Okay, let’s talk about Dane."

  Jessica wet her lips. She could sense his impending tension and hesitated.

  As if reading her thoughts, Mac reached over and grasped her jaw in his hand, the long, slender fingers caressing her cheek.

  "It’s okay," he said, "I’m okay with this. Honest. You want me to go first? Would that be easier?"

  She wasn’t sure, but nodded anyway.

  "Okay. I blew it. I was wrong. I didn’t know it then, obviously…" he admitted. His face was now serious. "I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, Jessie, to think about us. And what happened to Dane, and your going to Singapore, all that actually helped me to understand. There are things we each have to accept about the other."

  Jessica refrained from interrupting his train of thought, nodding softly in encouragement.

  "You really impressed me by sticking with your convictions. You were up front and honest with me about your commitment to Dane. I respect that, I really do. Whether or not he deserves your devotion is another issue," he added wryly. "Dane has some pretty definite ideas about how I should treat you."

  At this comment, Jessica frowned in concern. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

  "When we talked earlier, he--"

  "You talked to Dane tonight? Is he okay?"

  Mac rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Yes," he answered wearily. "He’s in good form. He let me know in no uncertain terms what he thought about my leaving you to come here. He actually had me feeling pretty guilty. Imagine that, Dane making me feel bad." He shook his head.

  "What else did he say?"

  "He’s resting comfortably; he’s at least well enough to be thoroughly obnoxious. And I guess we should call him back. He’s worried about you."

  "Worried about me? Why should he be worried about me?"

  "I tracked him down when I found out you’d left Singapore. I was frantic, baby, I didn’t know where you were," he confessed.

  "Well Dane knew where I was…I told him I was flying into Wellington this morning. In fact, it was sort of his idea. He even helped arrange for my ticket."

  "What? He knew where you were? That lying bastard told me you were supposed to have flown into L.A. Wednesday night!"

  "He obviously didn’t want to spoil my surprise," she said softly, running her fingers lightly over his mustache. "Don’t be mad."

  "More like he wanted to scare me." Damn it, Dane should have told him something. But that was Dane, right? "I was just about to call Air New Zealand when I got your note."

  "What for?"

  "I was going home. To you, Jessie. I’m ready to do whatever I have to, to be with you."

  "God! I got here just in time!"

  There is nothing better in the entire world. Being back in Mac’s arms was undoubtedly the cure for all ills, Jessica thought as they lay entwined under the heavy down comforter. He was asleep, his slow, even breathing warm on the back of her neck; his arms encircled her, his legs tangled with hers. They had not talked about everything, nor had either of them apologized to or forgiven the other. But somehow, it no longer mattered. She knew in her heart of hearts that from this day forward, they would never be voluntarily separated again. Never.

  And the next thing Jessica knew, Mac was scrambling around the hotel room, dressing hurriedly, his hair dripping wet.

  "What’s happening?" she asked sleepily.

  "I’m late," he explained, but paused to sit at her side and look down at her lovingly. "You bewitched me, woman. I overslept."

  He was dressed except for his boots, which he couldn’t find. He leaned down and kissed her nose, then resumed the search.

  "Where do you have to go?"

  "To the prairie. It’s about thirty miles north of here. I have a ranch, and a bunch of sheep, and a horse, and some nice guys that help me with the sheep, and--"

  "Mac, can I come?" she asked, sitting up suddenly and smiling brightly at him.

  He sat down and tugged on the rough cowhide leather boots. "Well…I don’t know," he said hesitantly. "It’s a long day, it’s dusty, it’s…hell, of course you can come. You’re a seasoned pro. But you have to hustle, babe."


  Jessica jumped delightedly from the bed and, grabbing her suitcase, headed for the bathroom. She was ready to go in ten minutes flat, and they were on their way to the hotel parking lot.

  "What is it?" she asked as he hopped into a large, four-wheel-drive vehicle that looked like an oversized, ungainly Jeep.

  "Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a Rover?" He held out his hand and pulled her up into the topless car. He grimaced, feigning weakness at pulling such a heavy load, then he grinned at her. "You sure look cute in that get-up."

  She’d purchased blue denim maternity "jeans" and an over-sized western shirt at a duty-free shop in Singapore while waiting for her plane to New Zealand. The temperature was perfect, she thought, the wind whipping her hair around as they rode along a dirt rode north of town.

  "The air is so clean here."

  Her comment made his eyes leave the road and he flashed a quick smile at her. "They say it’s the wind. It’s Spring here, you know; Christmas in New Zealand is a summer holiday."

  "You’re kidding! You’ve learned a lot about this area, haven’t you? You’re going to hate going home," she lamented.

  He was quiet while he considered her thoughts.

  "When will you be able to go home?" she asked.

  "If we finish out the film here, we’ll be done by Thanksgiving."

  "And why wouldn’t you finish the film here?"

  "I told them I might have to go home."

  Jessica nodded silently. So he’d been prepared to jump ship, if she’d needed him.

  "And?"

  "There’s a spot around Laguna Hills that we could use for the last scenes. If it’s green enough. But after this summer, California is mostly brown, I’ll bet."

  "Well, there’s no reason for you to go home. We’ll just stay until you finish the film."

  He turned to look at her again, this time pulling the Rover to a stop at the side of the road. "You’re going to stay?"

  "Why, of course I’m going to stay," she responded in surprise. "Why wouldn’t I?"