by S. E. Lund
ELAINE: Where's Drake? I thought he had the day off. Don't tell me he's back at the hospital...
KATE: No, Drake is at Maureen's talking to Brenda about Liam.
ELAINE: What's up?
KATE: Maureen wants to go to Indonesia with Chris. Wants to leave Liam behind with Brenda but in Manhattan. Drake wants him to come and stay with us.
ELAINE: Oh, poor Liam! What's the matter?
KATE: Chris is unhappy in the U.S. Maureen doesn't want to stay without him but can't take Liam due to his medical needs.
ELAINE: Oh, dear. Chris just moved back. Poor Liam. I hope she lets Drake take him. Are you okay with that?
KATE: I can't imagine him not coming to live with us! It makes me cry to imagine Liam losing his mother and then moving back to Manhattan when Drake is here. It will make it just that much harder for Drake and Liam to form a real relationship.
ELAINE: I know. Me, too. Poor child. Do you want me to come up and pick up Sophie while you go to your studio? Then you two could come for supper or not – it's up to you.
KATE: That would be so nice of you. I'll talk to Drake about it.
ELAINE: Okay, I'll come by and pick up Sophie.
KATE: Thanks. I'd like to stop by the art supply store and pick a few things up. I wouldn't stay for long. Maybe an hour or so.
ELAINE: I'll see you soon.
KATE: Thanks, Elaine. I appreciate it.
I sighed and put my cell away, slipping Sophie's pacifier back in her mouth when she shifted in my arms. She kept her eyes closed and didn’t wake up when I stood up with her, so I took her to her bedroom and laid her down in her crib, tucking her blanket up around her. She didn’t move a muscle.
Then, I got ready to go to the studio.
After Elaine arrived and took Sophie, I drove into San Francisco. I parked my car about a block from the art supply store, which was in the same neighborhood as my studio, and went inside to check out the supplies. I should have been excited about the trip, but I felt so bad for Liam and there was a bit of a damper on my day as a result. Still, I needed some new paint thinner and brushes, as well as other supplies, so I spent the next fifteen minutes selecting what I needed, gathering them in a basket before going to the checkout.
"Are you a member?" the cashier asked.
"No," I replied. "Is there a membership?"
She handed me a brochure, which explained that members paid an annual fee but got 10% off all supplies. I signed up on the spot. Not that I needed to worry about price, but I wanted to support the store and my $25 was nothing. Plus, it would make me feel like a real member of the community to have the little card and use it when I visited.
I finished the paperwork, paid my fee and then left. On my way out, I saw the flyer about Sefton's exhibition taped to the front window. Apparently, it was a big enough thing that it was advertised even in the local art supply stores.
I shrugged and carried my new card and supplies out to the car. Then I drove to a small office furniture store a few blocks away so I could pick up a stool. I needed something to use to sit at the workbench and found the perfect chair on rollers that was higher than normal and was adjustable. Satisfied that I had the perfect choice, I paid for it and then went back to the car, driving the few blocks to the studio. I parked and carried my packages inside, eager now to get the studio space better organized, my mind occupied for the moment and off the issues Drake and I faced back home.
The studio would be my personal escape from life. I wouldn't spend much time there, but it would be enough to keep my artistic pursuits alive. One day, when Sophie went to school, I'd have more time to spend painting – if that was what I wanted to do. I even considered finishing my MA, if the time came when I felt the drive to do so.
I was damn lucky and I knew it. Most women didn’t have my options.
I worked away in the studio, organizing my supplies and unpacking the stool, getting it set up and adjusted to the right height. Then, I couldn't resist setting up my easel and considering my current canvas. I got out my paints and started working on the elephant, getting my paints mixed just right. My mind was completely occupied with the painting and I forgot about the time as I worked away. When my cell dinged, I was brought back to the present and checked my watch. I'd been gone for an hour and a half.
It was Drake.
DRAKE: Hey, I came home and found Elaine here with Sophie. I assume you're still at the studio.
KATE: I'm sorry – I should have texted you to let you know. I didn’t want to bother you when you were with Brenda. I lost track of time but will be home right away.
DRAKE: Don't hurry. Come when you're ready. Sophie and I are having fun together. Elaine told me we're going to their place for a barbecue.
KATE: Yes, I agreed already. I hope you don't mind. I'll clean up and be home soon.
DRAKE: I don’t mind at all. I love you.
KATE: I love you.
I smiled and turned off my cell, then started to clean up. On my way to the building's trash chute, which disposed of any materials that were toxic or flammable such as turpentine, I ran into a man coming out of the disposal room. Tall, dark with longish hair in a man bun, he looked every inch the artist. Black t-shirt, worn jeans, black boots, and a kerchief around his head, he fit right in to my ideas of the bohemian artist.
"Oh, hello," he said and stopped when I grabbed the door handle to the garbage room. "You're the new tenant in studio 8."
"I am," I said and turned to face him. "I'm Kate."
"Sean," he said and extended his hand, then thought better of it since it was stained with paint. "I'm in studio 6, just down from you. What kind of art do you do?"
"Wildlife," I said. "I just started painting a series based on a trip to Africa."
"Cool," he said and smiled. "I do urban animals."
"Really?" I said and smiled back. "I'd love to see your work."
"Come on over. I'm working on one now."
"I will."
I waited for him to throw out his handful of rags that smelled like turpentine and then followed him down the hall to the studios. We entered his studio and I saw his paintings on the wall. Very impressionistic animals you'd find in the city – crows, sea birds, cats in alleys, dogs roaming garbage bins in a slum that looked like it came from some South American shanty town. He was talented and definitely had a point of view.
"These are great," I said, moving from one to the next. "This looks like it's in Mexico City or some slum in South America."
"Bogota, Columbia. The slum is called Ciudad Bolívar."
"You spent time there?"
"I went on a gap year before college. A friend and I travelled across the USA and down to Tierra del Fuego at the tip of Argentina."
I walked around his studio and examined each painting, and then his studio, interested in what other residents of the building did and how they arranged their spaces. He had an old purple sofa against one wall, but the rest of the space was dedicated to storing canvases and paints, brushes and other supplies.
He leaned against the wall beside me as I looked at a painting of a fox near an upended trash can.
"You want to go for drinks when you're done? There's a great little hole in the wall bar that serves Tapas down the street."
I smiled and held up my wedding ring. "Married. Baby. Sorry."
"My loss. If you ever change your mind, let me know."
"Change my mind about what?" I said with a laugh.
"Marriage," he said, grinning widely. "Fidelity. Monogamy."
"Not likely, but I appreciate the sentiment."
"Well, that's something at least."
I raised my eyebrows, amazed he felt so free to try to pick me up after we only knew each other for ten minutes.
"Can I come and see your etchings?" he said, still grinning.
"Sure," I replied and went to the door. "I paint though. Oil. No etchings."
He followed me down the hallway to my studio and for a moment, in the back
of my mind, I was a bit nervous that he might get the wrong idea and make another attempt to pick me up. I opened my studio door and let him in. I glanced around the studio, wondering what someone else would think about my space and what it said about me.
"Nice," he said and went to my easel, checking out the painting. "Did you do this from memory or from a photo?"
I went to the collection of photos I used to compose the piece and showed him. "I was on an art safari in Kenya."
"Cool," and then he checked out the rest of my space. Finally, as I was packing up my things, he came over to me, standing just a bit too close for my liking. I took a step back, my bag on my shoulder.
"Like I say, if you ever change your mind..."
"Not likely," I said and then opened the door. "I have to go. Meeting the husband and baby at my parents for a barbecue, so..."
He walked beside me and I swear he brushed up against me on purpose. What a flirt...
"See you around," he said and then he smiled again, walking down the hallway backwards to his studio.
"Nice to meet you," I replied and then scurried out of the building, glad to be away from him. It wasn't that I was at all tempted, but I didn't want him to get the wrong idea.
I arrived back at the house and found Drake and Sophie sitting on the sofa, watching television. Sophie was drinking her afternoon bottle and was playing with a stuffed toy, her eyes crinkling at the corners when she saw me. Drake was watching the news. On the screen, I saw a reporter standing in front of the district courthouse in Manhattan. On the banner below it read Murder Trial of Yonkers Billionaire Takes Twist.
"What's that?" I asked, sitting on the sofa beside Drake and Sophie.
"Apparently, Lisa's boyfriend was involved in another suspicious death before he met her. It involved his girlfriend's younger sister, who died while intoxicated. Seems the police are exhuming the body to do another autopsy."
"They suspect him of having murdered her?"
"Yeah, he was quite a troubled kid, I guess. Neighbors said he was always strange. They always say that after the fact, but in truth, most murderers blend in except for the most psychotic."
"Trust Lisa to get mixed up with a serial killer in the making."
"She knew how to pick 'em," Drake said with a sigh. "This just means there'll be more gossip about me at the hospital. I was mentioned as one of Lisa's BDSM partners."
"Did they give you a new name at least?"
"Former neurosurgeon at NYP now living in California, Dr. Drake Morgan, whose wife was attacked by Lisa. I was hoping things would slowly die down with the case, but I guess not. They're trying him separately from Lisa since he was the one who actually did the killing."
"Do you suppose he killed the little sister and made it look like an accident?"
"Could be. His father is a veterinarian. They have access to drugs."
"How awful."
We sat in silence and watched the news for a few moments. Sophie reached for me, so I took her from Drake's arms and held her while Drake got up to make a cup of coffee.
"Do you want one?"
I nodded. "I'll need one if you're going to keep me up late tonight," I said, my eyes narrow.
"Count on it, Mrs. Morgan," Drake said with a delicious smile. "I have so many plans for you..."
That made my heart race and my flesh respond.
It would heighten my arousal to have to wait all evening, eating dinner with my father and Elaine and then returning home to an entire night with my handsome and very sensual and lusty husband.
I took in a deep breath and tried to be patient but it was hard.
Chapter 6
DRAKE
As we drove along the highway that bordered the coast on our way to Ethan's, I held Kate's hand.
"How are you, Mrs. Morgan?" I kissed her knuckles. "Excited about tonight?"
"I am," she said and squeezed my hand. "I've been thinking about it all day."
"Me, too," I said, a surge of lust right to my dick at the thought of having Kate all to myself for the night. "We're lucky that Elaine is such a willing grandmother."
"I know," she replied and watched out the window at the passing scenery. The area was beautiful, with tree-lined streets at the edge of the cliff overlooking the bay.
We pulled up in the driveway and I parked the car, going around to Sophie's door to remove her car seat while Kate gathered up her diaper bag. We went into the house and were greeted by a smiling Ethan in his wheelchair. He zoomed around, the joystick in one hand, a bottle of beer in the other. He seemed in really great spirits.
"Come in, come in," he said, waving to the living room. "We're going to sit on the deck and watch the ocean for a while. The ribs are on the barbecue and are cooking low and slow, Cajun style. They've been on all day."
"Sounds fantastic," I said and carried Sophie inside. While I took her out of her car seat, Kate went into the kitchen to speak with Elaine and so Ethan and I went to the deck. They had a playpen set up for Sophie filled with toys, so I put her into it and she was happy to play for a while. I sat on a lawn chair beside Ethan, who handed me a bottle of beer from a cooler.
"So, tell me about Liam," Ethan said, eyeing me from under the brim of his Yankees baseball cap.
"I want to try for joint custody," I said. "I don't want him living with his grandmother instead of me while Maureen is in Indonesia. I don't want him to grow up without at least one parent in the home. No offense meant against Brenda, but I am his father."
Ethan nodded and took a drink of his beer. "Maureen's not happy about that, I take it?"
I shook my head. "She thinks I'll be a bad influence because of the trial and my past."
Ethan didn’t say anything for a moment and I wondered if he felt she had a point.
"I have to tell you that, as a former judge, I might be concerned on first reading of your case that she might be right. I have the benefit of knowing you, and I know the opposite is true. If anyone would be a good – a great – influence on Liam, it would be you. But you're going to have to overcome a judge's natural prejudice against you."
"I understand," I said, trying to see it from a judge's point of view. "I have two strikes against me already. I don't need any more."
Ethan nodded. "The key will be to marshal a whole lot of positive character witnesses for you, people who can counter those black marks. If I were your lawyer, that's what I'd recommend. You have a stellar record at NYP both as a world-class neurosurgeon and as a professor of neurosurgery. You have a history of volunteer work with Doctors Without Borders in Africa. You have a charitable foundation you started in honor of your father that does good works around the world. You're independently wealthy, practicing medicine when you really don't have to work at all. All those things will be weighed against the two black marks. It's more important what you have been doing in the last five years of your life, rather than in the previous ten when you were younger."
I watched the surf, my mind on how a lawyer would represent me in front of a judge. What he or she would say.
"Do you know any good lawyers out here?"
"I'll check around with a few judges I know. They can suggest a few who know how to finesse a case like yours."
"I appreciate it. I hate that I have a case that needs finessing but I guess I do."
"Don't worry about it. You deserve to be Liam's guardian, considering you saved the boy's life. That'll be worth a whole lot in the mind of a judge. At least, it would with me if I had your case in front of me."
We sat silent for a moment and listened to the sound of the ocean washing onto the beach.
"I wish Maureen were staying," I said finally. "I hate to think how this will hurt Liam. I know how it will hurt Liam. He's even younger than I was when my mother left me."
Ethan reached out and patted me on the arm. "The judge will take it all into consideration and I have to admit that he'll be sympathetic to you, given Maureen is practically abandoning the boy. Her objections to you
having custody will be seen with a very jaundiced eye."
"I don't want to do anything to hurt her," I said, truthfully. "I understand she's sick. People do things that aren’t in their own best interest when they are depressed. My mother was depressed after my brother died and she never got over it. I just hope that Maureen gets over it and comes back. She's choosing between Chris and Liam. I hate Chris for making her choose him over Liam. Even though she says it's only for six months, why couldn’t she just suck it up for six months while Chris is away?"
"Depression is hard to understand unless you've been there yourself."
I turned to look at Ethan, surprised. "You have?"
Ethan nodded. "After Kate's mother died, I was alone and was at a point in my career when I had to put in long hours. Luckily, Elaine came along and helped me through it. As to your mother, a lot of couples break up when a child dies but it's usually the mother who takes custody during a divorce. It's rarely the father. Even today, it's still uncommon. Regardless, whatever cracks existed in their relationship are magnified and sometimes, the parents aren't strong enough to do what it takes to stay together."
I exhaled, sick about Liam having to say goodbye to his mother for even six months. Who knew whether they'd return at the end of that time? Maybe Chris would want to stay there. Would Maureen want to stay with him? Would Liam ever be healthy enough to go and live with them in Indonesia? Sure, they could afford the best quality medical care that money could buy in Indonesia, but it wasn't the same as medical care Liam could get in the states.
"Liam really can't go somewhere like Indonesia to live until he has the all clear from his doctors, but he'll always be at risk due to his medications to suppress rejection of his transplant. Even though we were a perfect match, he'll always be on a low dose of steroids. That puts him at risk of infections and diseases that he might otherwise avoid."
"Maureen will have to make a hard decision at some point. Hopefully, she'll get over her depression and come to her senses about what really matters."
