They had all taken their turns at not leaving her alone. Chloe had been dumbfounded when she had listened to Casey’s tale of how, through a heart-wrenching misunderstanding, Wolf had thought her to be an evil assassin.
He had been contracted to kill the poor woman while she fled from him on a deserted tropical island. The two had been shipwrecked together, and alone. Chloe had shuddered with the thought. Wolf was fiercely powerful, easily twice Casey and Chloe’s size; she would be terrified to have him after her. She couldn’t imagine being stalked by a Wolf.
Only Candy had remained vague on how she and Dirk had met, avoiding details. The woman was exquisitely beautiful, with long, dark, curly hair and deep, dark brown, laughing eyes with crazy, long lashes. She seemed happy and content to be in the family, she was well loved by all, and there was no mistaking her pride in her son. It was easy to see James held a special spot in his heart for her.
Chloe knew Candy loved Dirk, there was no mistaking that. Her eyes followed him about to linger on him and yet when Chloe had asked, all Candy would disclose was that it was touch and go at first; she had needed to get used to Dirk and her surroundings. Dirk had saved her and Sammy, Carrie’s baby girl, from an evil man who'd planned on using the both of them for ill purposes.
Though all of the women surrounded her with encouragement, Chloe couldn’t shake her misgivings. She knew they cared, they just didn’t truly understand. How could they? How could she expect them to?
Chloe was having a hard time figuring out her own feelings. It was hard to explain the emotion of being lost within your own home, within your own self. Nothing seemed as it was supposed to be. On occasion when she felt certain of where she was, she would walk into something, trip and fall.
The embarrassment of always struggling with her frustrated tears was taking its toll. She hated to cry. Something needed to be done, yet Chloe was at a loss.
“Well, don’t you look beautiful,” Chloe heard from close by. She turned in the direction of Damien’s voice.
“I can’t do this,” Chloe whimpered in a small, pleading voice. “Please, Salvator, let me stay up here. I’m more comfortable up here out of everyone’s way.”
Damien was soon crouching before her, taking up her shaking hands. The others left discreetly, giving the couple some time. Damien lifted her hand and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
“We are all family, Chloe. You are never in our way. What are you afraid of?”
“I’m afraid of falling down the stairs or into the dining room table, or off my seat. Of spilling something in my lap and being banished back to the children’s table because of my clumsiness. Of smearing food on my face and looking foolish. Of eating off someone else’s plate by accident. The list goes on and on, Damien. You have no idea what I’m feeling, I don’t want everyone to stare at me in pity,” Chloe said.
Damien pulled her down into his lap. His powerful arms closed around her, comforting her. He cuddled her while sitting on the rug, stroking her silken hair. It was such a familiar position. Damien had been doing this for years. He had always claimed when she needed him he could be strong for the both of them. If ever there was a time she needed his strength it was now.
“I can see and hear your fear,” Damien began. “It will get easier. No one expects a miracle of manners, sweetheart. We understand you’re going to have to learn how to cope with this, and so will we.
“Even eating and dressing are frustrating right now. But we can help. It won’t always be so frightening. I promise if Dad banishes you to the kids' table—and he won’t—I will go with you. You’ll have lots of company.
“Carrie is always complaining about the twins not being able to join us for dinner, so is Casey about Rhea. I imagine Candy will start soon enough with Jamie, although on second thought she may just wait until she’s finished breastfeeding him, though she’s very liberated and feeds him wherever, not that anyone minds. It’s sweet, and if someone doesn’t think so she cracks them one; or Casey does. Besides you can eat off my plate anytime. You used to when we were kids.”
Chloe groaned in remembrance. “That’s not fair! You know sometimes I came over here starving. I was afraid to ask for more. That nanny who sat with us at dinner always told me little girls weren’t supposed to make pigs of themselves. She looked like a frumpy old walking stick. But with boys it was different; They will be twice as big once fully grown and need to eat twice as much, dear,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
“Why do you think I would always take so much? She approved and I could share with you without going hungry myself. My mother always wondered why my pockets always appeared to be soggy; it was from stuffing them with food for you to eat later.
“I wish it had occurred to me to tell Dad on her; he would have put a stop to her double standards. I still shudder at the thought when we had creamed corn! Why couldn’t one of your favorites have been Brussels sprouts? Every night you would sneak downstairs, hoping for Mom to give you a cookie to get you through until breakfast.”
Chloe smiled. “Sometimes it was Dirk or James who came to my craving rescue and took pity on my rumbling tummy. Your father just thought I had a bottomless pit. Oh, how I miss those chewy homemade oatmeal cookies, with the sweetest raisins and almond slivers, and your mom’s blueberry pie. I’m certain they were flavored with love. I can almost smell it, lovely and warm with vanilla ice cream and hot chocolate, smothered in heavenly whipped cream.”
“So it was you eating all the pie! All that time I was blamed. You dared to laugh and called me glutton the other day. You rat! And Dirk and Dad were co-conspirators. Wait until I let them have it.”
Chloe chuckled, knowing by the tone of his voice he was smiling down on her, then she gasped as Damien rose to his feet, carrying her with him. Without giving her a chance to offer up more resistance he carried her, clinging to him, down the long hallway and the massive staircase. Chloe buried her face into his neck once more with frightened misgiving, while he soothed her with encouraging words. He promised he wouldn’t leave her for a second, she would be fine.
“There you are. We have been waiting for you,” James said.
Chloe blushed with embarrassment; she could inwardly see every pair of eyes settled onto her. Damien lowered her grandly onto a chair between himself and James. Once settled he handed Chloe a fork.
Damien whispered in her ear everything on her plate had already been cut into bite-sized pieces and she wouldn’t have to fuss with a knife until ready and comfortable.
This evening, as a courtesy to her awkwardness, they were forgoing soup and salad, as Chloe often made a mess with any entrees. She knew Damien was hesitant to place a bowl of soup before her that she would be required to feel. If too hot she would be burned, if chilled she would be embarrassed, as Damien knew she hated chilled soups. She was, after all, still acquiring skills in maneuvering utensil to plate and then to her mouth, ultimately preferring her fingers.
Damien took Chloe’s left hand and had her feel the outline of the plate. He encouraged her to keep her hand close to or touching the plate; its proximity would need to be well defined within her mind through touch.
“Your glass of wine, white not red, because red gives you a headache and we don’t want that, is just above your plate at eleven o’clock and only half full. Feel the stem of your glass; it’s touching your plate. Your veal, with a very light drizzle of mint sauce, so it won’t drip, is at twelve o’clock, your baby carrots, there are six left whole, at quarter after.
“For your dining pleasure, my dear, we have creamy whipped, not mashed, potatoes at six o’clock and your roll is of course buttered and waiting for you at a quarter to.” He then placed her fork into her right hand.
“Salvator,” Chloe began, feeling choked up. He was trying so hard. Being so patient and caring as his hands guided hers across the plate. Damien kissed the top of her head and sat himself down again beside her. She felt the reassurance of his soft fingertips ca
ress the back of her neck.
“Plus, you will never guess what we are having for dessert…warm blueberry pie with ice cream, and no doubt hot chocolate with mounds of heavenly whipped cream,” Damien said dryly. She chuckled as she envisioned the wrathful look he must have leveled onto James and Dirk.
“Carrie is a fabulous cook and found her grandmother’s numerous cookbooks. She was informed of how much you loved blueberry pie and thought you might like some,” Dirk said.
“Thank you, Carrie, that was so thoughtful,” Chloe began, her eyes moistening. She smiled gratefully at her acceptance. After all, none of the women here had known her very long. At first she had felt like an outsider among them, yet they had been trying so hard to befriend her and make her feel welcome within their circle.
Chloe did feel welcome, and grateful. She had been feeling so sorry for herself, even wondering if death would have been preferable to a world of gripping darkness. Though she could not see their faces, she imagined their facial expressions with their voices.
She envisioned James’ relief when she maneuvered and managed to get a piece of veal to her mouth with no mishaps. She could almost see Dirk’s pride when her wine also made it to her lips and back to the table without spilling or clanking. After a bite of potatoes and much family chatter and reminiscing, she was unoffended when Damien took his napkin and dabbed at her cheek.
“Something is missing,” Chloe declared. All talk ceased abruptly. Her head cocked to the side as though pondering in deep thought.
“Everyone is here,” James said, sounding confused.
“Not a person, James, a smell,” Chloe said, searching for the memory. Her face was alight suddenly at her recollection. “No candles are lit, James!”
The room remained quiet for a moment longer. Awkward, uncomfortable silence ensued as people shifted in their seats. A throat cleared.
“It was my idea, Chloe. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t take the chance of you injuring yourself by accident on the flames, if the hot wax spilled…”Dirk replied, trailing off.
Chloe could hear his concern, concern for her well-being and her emotions at his revelation. She felt a deep sadness, her thoughts in turmoil. She knew each of the candles were lit every dinner in remembrance of a departed loved one, so that their spirits could dine with them, welcomed and in harmony together.
Most recently one had been added for her own mother. One always glowed for Samantha, the brightest one it seemed, the scented vanilla one that had to be replaced often as it burned down the fastest. James had always declared with pride her presence was the strongest, burning hardest, her love for them the deepest with her need to have them feel her.
James would forgo dining with his beloved wife’s spirit for Chloe’s safety. She also knew Wolf and Tyr would light a candle for a young sister who died in childhood so tragically long ago. Each person at the table had a special candle to light. Because of their love for her they would sacrifice this one honored tradition.
It was too much. The sacrifice was too great. Chloe sobbed, once more giving in to tears that always seemed to threaten. Her hands dropped to her lap. She felt ashamed. She was the cause of them forgoing the time-honored tradition. Damien pulled her to himself, settling her onto his knee.
“It’s all right, Chloe,” Damien soothed. His hand stroked her hair down her back. He placed comforting kisses on her brow.
“No, it’s not,” she replied, weeping. “Just because I can’t see the candles doesn’t mean I miss them any less. You remind me every day how welcome I am. Please, James, light the candles. I like feeling Samantha is with us and around us too. She always treated me as though I were her own. I know she would understand you wanting to keep me safe, and yet I can’t help but feel she would like to make certain I am herself.”
After a subdued discussion between James and Dirk a shuffle of activity occurred in a compromise. Before long Chloe could smell the familiar scent of the candles wafting towards her. Their warmth drifted over her. Her association with the smell gave her courage.
She felt comforted. She was determined to deal with this new chain of events. Sighted or not, all family customs were important. That the candles now burned on the buffet table and not directly on the dining room table didn’t matter. Now it felt everyone was finally together.
“Thank you, James, Dirk,” Chloe said. Damien settled her back onto her own seat, a light kiss to the top of her head. Once more he placed her fork into her hand after encouraging her to drink some wine.
“We all need to adjust, Chloe,” Dirk said. “Your loss and sorrow are our own. As you make mistakes so might we. We’ll all just have to practice a great deal of forgiveness while we learn.”
“It wasn’t a mistake, Dirk. It was a sacrifice of love. How about I promise to try not to trip over any of you, or spill on you, and you can all promise to keep things as normal as possible…and for God’s sake don’t anyone rearrange the furniture!” Chloe cried, still snuffling, but trying to lighten the mood.
“I guess you better cancel that new decorator, Dad,” Damien deadpanned.
“You are so lucky I can’t hit you anymore!” Chloe screeched.
“Well I can,” Carrie declared, and Chloe heard a loud whack to her left. Damien groaned, then chuckled.
“Dad, they’re ganging up on me again,” Damien whined, now laughing. The others joined in.
“Well, it looks as though things will be back to normal soon after all,” James said, and sighed heavily. Dinner resumed.
* * * *
“Thank you, Salvator,” Chloe said. She was lying in her bed and it dipped as he sat beside her.
“How did you know it was me?” Damien asked, surprised. He had left as she changed and had not announced himself as he had entered her room silently once more.
Chloe smiled. “When certain people sit beside me the bed dips differently,” she explained.
“Oh great! So now you’re saying you can identify me because my ass is big?” Damien howled, outraged.
“No, no,” Chloe laughed. He pinned her with his hands on either side of her. “All I meant was, your father doesn’t sit as close to me as you do, his is more of a tentative perch. Dirk doesn’t quite flop himself onto the bed like he owns me, the way you do.”
“He better not!”
“Be serious,” Chloe said, still chuckling.
“I am,” Damien declared.
“No really, Salvator, thank you for taking me downstairs. I’m not afraid anymore. You were right.”
“Quick! Where’s my tape recorder?”
“All right, go ahead and gloat. You deserve it—this time. I should have known you would take care of me. For so long it’s been Dirk and James who took care of everything. When we were kids and I was hurt or afraid you always took me to one of them.”
“That’s because I was so young and unsure myself. I’m not a little boy anymore, sweetheart. I haven’t been for a long time. I promised I would take care of you and I meant it.”
“No commitments, please. I would be so hurt, Damien. I know you love me. I love you. But it’s different now.”
“Why? Because you’re blind?”
“I’m a burden.”
“You weren’t a burden when I saved my food for you because you were always hungry. You weren’t a burden when you cried yourself to sleep in my room, keeping me awake and wondering how to console you. You weren’t a burden those many times we shared secrets about what my family did and still do.
“What makes a burden, Chloe? Someone who is dependent on another? Everyone depends on someone for something. Whether it’s sight, hearing, walking, or love. Emotional support when you lose your job, a shoulder to cry on. When you have a bad day. It’s not called a burden, it’s called commitment, caring, love. A child is completely dependent on their parents at birth and for years after. Are they considered a burden?”
“A child will eventually leave home, someone will eventually get another job; your theory is flawed,
” Chloe complained.
“Apparently you haven’t heard the latest statistics on children leaving home. It seems they now seem to stay forever! Look at Dirk and myself. I’m not going anywhere any time soon. I rest my case.”
“Be serious!”
“I am. Has your personality changed? No. Have your looks changed? No. Has your sweetness and caring changed? No. One thing has changed. One day your looks will change when you get older, as everyone does. You are still and will still be the same person inside. What if you get fat, does that make a difference? I’m not that shallow. Please tell me you know that or I will hurt so bad inside,” Damien said raggedly.
“I’m so sorry,” Chloe wept, reaching for him.
Damien pulled her into his embrace. He gripped her chin, taking her lips to his own. The kiss was long, though undemanding, tenderly exquisite. His tongue teased out to taste her full, rosy lips. He trailed his mouth over her cheeks, gliding them down her throat with the sweetness of a butterfly’s velvety touch.
Chloe pulled him more securely to herself. She relaxed against him as he sought to undue her soft, sleeveless shirt. After stroking his knuckles across her chest, he caressed first one breast, then another, feeling their weight, how they settled so unbelievably perfectly within his hands.
Chloe moaned as one taut nipple disappeared into his mouth while he drew her in, savoring her taste, drawing her deeper, deeper until she gasped. He took his time suckling harder, gaining in intensity, his teeth teasing and grazing the nipple.
He moved his mouth only to discover her other high peek when he had thoroughly tasted and satisfied himself on the first. He trailed his hand sensuously down her hips, lowering her panties, slipping them past her sleek hips.
The other hand supported his weight, keeping himself from pinning and overpowering her. She settled back against the satin pillows with a sigh, allowing Damien full access to her body.
Their heat increased, yet Damien controlled where they were going. He realized now why she had stopped him those many nights ago. He had moved too quickly, too soon. It wouldn’t have been perfect for her. She deserved to be loved by him, and love her he would.
Assassin Deception Page 7
