by Freya Barker
This morning Emma, who is a tad more...insightful, called first to see if it was okay for them to pop by. She had something for me I might need. Still feeling a little blech, but I realize there's no time like the present to crawl out of our little 'secure' bubble, so I tell her any time is good for me.
"They're wraps. For your head," Emma adds in explanation. She takes one from my lap and with a few tugs has it firmly on my head. With a smiling Mal and the girls looking on, I head to the mirror on the wall by the front door. It looks good. A little Mediterranean, with the deep red Bougainville flowers sharply outlined against the sky-blue background. It's smooth against my head but with the ends tied in a jaunty tail to the side, trailing over my shoulder.
"What do you think?" I turn to Mal, my hands inadvertently going to touch the ends of the shawl to fiddle.
"You look fantastic," he smiles. "A bit mysterious like those fifties starlets. The colors make your whole face light up."
I smile my appreciation before turning to Arlene, who immediately makes me laugh with her facial expression. "Okay, okay. So I can see she looks good in them," she says more to Emma than to me, "but I still think to get our girl here back in fighting shape, she would've been better served with one of your peach pies."
I barely hear Emma's shocked "Arlene!" as I dart past—still half laughing—to get to the bathroom.
"Sorry," Arlene says sheepishly when I walk back in, cleaned up and proudly donning my new shawl to Emma's obvious delight.
I first walk over to Arlene, hug her and whisper in her ear, "Thanks for a good healthy laugh." Then I turn to Emma, sit down next to her on the couch, put my arm around her and my head on her shoulder. "And thank you for making me feel pretty, even while hanging over the toilet."
They stayed long enough to have me try on every shawl, each a little different then the next, and the cute little sporty beanies.
When they're gone, Mal walks me to the bedroom for a nap. I pull open the bottom drawer of my dresser where I keep odds and ends to put the turbans in when my hand encounters something. When I pull what feels like a book out, I see it’s actually a sketchpad.
“What’s this?” I ask Mal, when he reaches for it.
“Just some scribbles.” He looks a bit unsure when he sees me flipping it open.
“You mind?” I don’t want to be presumptuous, but curiosity has me looking at the drawings before he even responds.
“Go right ahead,” he says with a smirk.
The first drawing is one of a beautiful baby. If I’m not mistaken, it’s his nephew Mattias. The next are sketches of animal life. Beautiful drawings of mountain lions and eagles. Detailed and focused on the heads, with the bodies fading away. It isn’t until I get to the second half that I recognize Boo in some of his drawings. Suddenly I’m staring into my own eyes. My hair still long and luscious, my eyes clear and healthy. It’s so beautiful, it brings tears to my eyes. Turning to look at him, I see he is studying me intently.
“When did you do these?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “That first one there I sketched after the first time I showed up here with Drew.”
I look at him incredulously. The drawing was done with such feeling, it takes me aback. “But—“
“I know, crazy right?” he smiles. “I think part of me recognized you would be important in my life even then.” Bending down to pick me up under my arms, he turns with me to the bed and tucks me in.
I reach out to pull him down and place a hand on his jaw. “I want to hang them up,” I tell him.
He is silent for a moment, looking me in the eyes. “Okay.”
He leans in and kisses me softly. “Love you, Kimeo.”
“Me too, so much,” I tell him.
Mal
While Kim was in the bathroom earlier, I had a chance to talk to Arlene about giving notice for the apartment above the diner and she smiled big.
"Neil started packing your shit up as soon as he came back last week. He's just waiting for your okay so he can move it out and move his stuff in. No notice needed."
Well I'll be damned. I'm still considering whether to be angry for the kid's cocky actions or slap him on the back for his foresight, when Kim walks back in. Good to see that despite her almost pallid complexion, her eyes are sparkling today.
A few hours later, with Kim having a nap in the bedroom, I open the door to Neil, whom I called a while ago, letting him in. He's wearing a knit beanie pulled down over his ears and looks like he's dressed for winter.
"What's with the hat, man? It's eighty-five degrees outside—hardly cold enough to wear that thing."
"Shut up. You guys could've warned me my ears stick out. I look like Dumbo. This is the only way I can hide them until my hair grows in again," he grumbles.
"Are you shitting me? You walked around like that for two weeks and you never complained, what brought this on?"
"I don't make it a habit to stare in the mirror if I can help it first of all, and secondly, damn Arlene decided to point it out last week when I walked into the diner. Fucking Kendra was there and she thought it was funny. She told me she always thought Dumbo was cute. Fucking hell. I went straight into the bathroom to have a good look. Man, they're out to there!" He waves his hands about an arm length away from his head in overly dramatic fashion.
I shake my head. "You're an idiot, kid—you should star in a daytime soap with all the drama. If a girl says she thinks the animal you were just compared to is cute, she's basically saying you're cute. Dimwit. And why does this conversation remind me of elementary school?"
"Cute is the absolute last thing I want that particular woman to think when she thinks of me," he bellyaches, confirming my prior suspicions. "And would you quit calling me kid? You're barely ten years older than I am. It's not helping." He stomps off outside to grab the first of the boxes he hauled over from his truck. I rush after him to open the garage door to stick them in there for the time being. At least until I have a chance to let Kim know I'm officially moving in. As of right now.
-
"So shouldn't we be getting your apartment empty so Neil can move in?"
It's been four days since we got back from Durango and we're on our way to the clinic in Cedar Tree for an appointment with Naomi, who's agreed to take on the day-to-day management of Kim's medical conditions. Already a follow up appointment has been scheduled with the endocrinologist who saw Kim in Mercy Hospital in Durango and started her on Synthroid©, a thyroid hormone replacement she'll have to take for the rest of her life. Naomi is doing some blood work today to keep an eye on her levels and to see whether the dosage needs adjustment.
"Actually—he's already in," I tell her.
"Where did he leave your stuff?"
"In your garage."
In my peripheral vision I see her head whip around. "When?" she half-shouts.
"Day after we got back. But he'd already packed everything a week before, when he got back to Cedar Tree. He did that on his own." I don't know what I expect. Maybe for her to get mad, but she surprises me by laughing heartily.
"What's funny?"
"You," she responds deadpan. "You think you're fooling people with your stoic poker face, but it turns out you're as transparent as the rest of us. Neil was obviously a step ahead of you."
"Bullshit," I say, but it's true. There was a time not so long ago that people never knew what I was thinking. I'd become very adept at hiding any emotion or reaction. It seems those days are over as is evident from the softly snickering woman beside me.
"Look at you!" Naomi enthusiastically greets Kim, admiring the turban-like contraption she's wearing on her head today. "Is that one of Emma's?"
I leave the girls chattering about shawls and make my way over to Kendra, who is sitting at the reception desk looking on.
"Hey you," she smiles as I approach. "Never thought I'd see the day, but you actually look happy. Never seen you smile so much. The hair though? You've gotta grow it back."
I chuc
kle, running my hand over the stubble on my head. "It's nice and cool though. Light too."
"Yeah, but it's killing your mysterious vibe, ya know? Although I guess you don't need that anymore. I'm glad for you, my friend. She's perfect for you." There is no regret in her voice, just genuine warmth and I smile back at her easily.
"You know, it took a while for me to see it, but once I opened my eyes it was a no brainer. You should try it sometime," I suggest carefully.
"Try what?" she asks, her face scrunched up.
"Try to look at things—at people—with an open mind. Your perfect might be closer than you think."
Before she has a chance to respond, Naomi calls out.
"You coming in, Mal?"
With a wink at a stunned Kendra, I follow Naomi into her office.
Kim
"So when do we get results?" Mal asks as he walks into the kitchen with the last of the groceries we picked up.
"She said she'd call as soon as she hears from the lab. Probably a couple of days. If they need to do an adjustment on the dosage, she'll check with the endocrinologist first and then call the pharmacy with the new script."
He nods his understanding before changing the subject. "What do you feel like for dinner?"
I still get bouts of nausea but today for the first time I'm feeling truly hungry. I eye the steaks Mal is about to pop in the freezer. "Those," I tell him before he puts them away. "I feel like a good grilled steak, a baked potato and maybe a salad, but only a little one." Mal smiles at my response and slaps the meat down on the counter before pulling me into his arms.
"A woman after my own heart. A bloody piece of meat with a side of decked out, starchy carbohydrates and easy on the greens. That's so fucking hot."
I mock-punch him on the shoulder, but can't quite stop grinning. "You just haven't gotten laid in a while—you think anything is sexy," I tease him.
"Damn right. I’m thinking anything and everything about you is sexy," he growls in my neck as he wraps me tight. "Can you feel that?"
Fuck yes, I can feel that. His hard length is pressing in my belly and for the first time in a while, my body seems to happily respond with a tingle. "I don't wanna let that go to waste," I whisper, pulling his face closer to kiss him with all the passion I have in me. The vibrations of his responding groan, as he slants his head to deepen the kiss, raises goosebumps on my skin. With his tongue strong and dominant in my mouth, I give myself over to his control and I easily let him pick me up and sit me on the counter, our contact never broken. When he pulls back, a pathetic little whimper escapes my lips.
"I want to do this properly," he explains, eyeing the plastic wrapped steaks on the counter beside me. "Wrap your legs around me." I comply immediately, grabbing on to his shoulders when he starts walking me to the bedroom, and cling to him like a monkey. He tosses me rather unceremoniously onto the bed, and before I can react, his body looms large over me. Not threatening. Never threatening, but secure and protecting. Straddling me he takes off his shirt tossing it aside, before divesting me of mine, which is sent the same general direction. I barely even notice my bra disappearing, so intent on the heat and need in his eyes. Obsidian. Dark, complex and breathtakingly beautiful—as the man. In seconds he has us both naked, his touch making me feel more beautiful than I deserve to feel. When his fingers slide between my folds I'm already slick and ready for him. He electrifies me when his fingertip lightly strokes over the little ball of nerves, gently rubbing the hood out of the way. The friction of his fingerprint is enough to have me shiver in anticipation. The moment his lips close over my taut nipple I let out a deep groan. I'm close—so close to shattering, but I want to feel him inside me. Need to be full...fulfilled...complete.
"Please Malachi. I need you."
Lifting his eyes he slowly releases my nipple from between his lips with a pop. "You have me," he says simply, before shifting his body so his hips are wedged between my thighs and I can feel the thick head of his cock probing for entrance. Agonizingly slow, he enters me, stopping suddenly only halfway inside. "Fuck. Condom," he says carefully retreating, but I wrap my legs around him and grab the tight cheeks of his ass.
"Don't stop," I plead, wanting the unobstructed feel of him inside me. I don't care about whether this is the right time or way too early to take risks. I don't even care that the likelihood of me getting pregnant—ever—is questionable anyway. All I care about, right now, is to feel alive with the possibility—just the possibility of creating something amazingly beautiful with this man.
His eyes search my face for an answer, and what he finds is calm resolve. All concern bleeding from his own face, he looks utterly peaceful as he pushes back inside me completely.
Bliss.
-
Two hours and three orgasms later, I'm sitting on the deck in the late afternoon sun, watching Mal expertly flip the steaks on the grill. Baked potatoes in foil are staying warm on the top rack and in lieu of greens, we've sliced some tomatoes, topped them with fresh basil and feta and drizzled them with Balsamic. Mal approved, saying that only a salad with a healthy dose of protein is a salad worth eating. Spoken like a real man.
"So when are you bringing your furniture in?"
"Don't have any," he answers, shrugging his shoulders. "Only a bunch of boxes with stuff and my clothes."
"No furniture? No bed or couch or anything?" I'm shocked. A man in his early forties surely has accumulated some stuff?
"Nope. Never really settled down anywhere long enough to get any and when I moved in above the diner, it was fully furnished. Never cared much about what I was lying in or sitting on as long as it was functional. I still don't care, as long as it has you on it or in it."
I get up and shove Boo aside, who's been drooling next to the BBQ, waiting for something to fall. Sidling up behind Mal I ease my arms around his waist. "We should look at some new furniture together. I want you to love our home as much as I do."
He covers my hands at his waist with one of his, tilts his face back over his shoulder and looks at me. "I couldn't love my home anymore than I do, Nizhóní." Turning in my arms to face me, he bends down and kisses the tip of my nose before trailing his fingers down from my forehead. A little smile tugs at his lips and with his next words he gives me everything.
"You are my home."
EPILOGUE
Four months later
Mal
Turning into the driveway, I'm impatient to feel Kim's body in my arms—her lips under mine. My week in Grand Junction, working a surveillance detail, had been long and tedious, and the hours spent alone in my truck gave me a lot of time to think. Enough time to bring me to what should've been a foregone conclusion. One that had me make an unscheduled stop before I started my long drive back home this afternoon.
I know she's probably already eaten dinner, and given that I hadn't called beforehand because I wanted to surprise her, I don't expect a meal. Although my stomach is telling me it needs feeding. A sandwich will have to do—after.
I know the house is empty the moment I walk in. No Boo trying to knock me over, something he continues to do no matter how hard I try to break him of that habit—and no Kim fiddling in the kitchen or curling up on the couch with her Kindle. She probably took Boo for an after dinner walk on the mesa.
I quickly slap some bread together and with a sandwich in each hand, make my way outside into the chill of a beautiful fall evening. I know what route she usually takes and start walking it in reverse, hoping to bump into her somewhere. I've just brushed off the last bite when I see Boo bounding toward me, with Kim running after him, hollering at him to stop. I automatically brace for impact, first from the dog that I barely manage to push off before Kim hits me full force, almost knocking me on my ass anyway.
"Whoa! Easy, babe, or we'll be horizontal a little sooner than I'd planned." I barely get the words out before Kim has her fingers twisted in the still growing strands of my hair, pulling my head down and plastering her lips to mine.
> The kiss is intense and by the time I lift my head to look into her sparkling eyes, we're both a bit breathless.
"I'm so glad you're home. I missed you something fierce," she says, her smile cracking and her face wide open.
"Missed you too, Kimeo. Didn't Kerry keep you busy enough?"
Kim started working with Kerry in the bookstore. The first few weeks part time, but then she threw herself all in. The two of them have just launched a website as well. An online bookstore if you will, where they list their entire inventory of mostly second hand books and will ship throughout the US mainland. Already they've had some great response from people able to find specific books no longer in production or the odd obscure novel. It's fast becoming busy enough to take on an additional part-timer to help deal with the volume of orders.
"I'm never too busy to miss you," she reiterates. "You've been forefront on my mind since my appointment today, but I was waiting to call until after Boo's walk."
Shit. I'd completely forgotten about her appointments at Mercy in Durango today. She was supposed to go with Naomi. I'd been so wrapped up in what I was planning, it totally slipped my mind. Quickly recovering I ask, "Tell me. How are your levels?"
She hooks her arm in mine and we slowly start walking back. "Blood counts are great. Hormone levels are steady and all other tests came back clean. And guess what? I found—"
I stop her and turn her toward me. She's fine, doing great—there is no better time. Before she has a chance to say anything, I slip the little box that has been burning a hole in my pocket all the way from Grand Junction home, into my hand and drop down on a knee. I hold one of her hands tightly in mine and her other one slowly makes its way to cover her open mouth.
