by Terry Odell
She rolled her eyes. "I said I'm okay. Now go get the drinks before your dinner gets cold."
Randy hustled to the table that served as a bar, grateful that he was finally off duty and could relax for the rest of the night. "Two beers," he said to the young man behind the table.
Randy watched as the band members strolled across the tennis courts to a temporary platform and picked up their instruments. He nodded to the bass player. He knew the keyboard player as well. Should be good music. He looked forward to dancing. An involuntary grin erupted as he thought about holding Sarah—something he hadn't done in far too long.
The bartender pulled two bottles from a tub of ice and set them on the table. "That'll be five dollars."
"Last year we each got two free ones," Randy said.
"I've heard that a lot, sir. Guess they didn't get the donations they'd hoped for this time around."
More cutbacks. "Never mind. It's still cheap enough." He paid for the drinks, dropped a dollar into the tip jar and took the beers to the table.
He smirked as he handed Janie a bottle. "If I'd known I really had to buy the beer, I might not have offered."
"Sure you would. I know too many of your secrets." She smirked right back. "Like the time you had to use pantyhose to secure a perp."
Randy pretended to glower. "You're not threatening me, are you? I've known your husband since he was a green rookie. I've got plenty of stories, too."
"I'd like to hear that one," Sarah said. She grinned at Randy. "Pantyhose? Not yours, I'm guessing."
Randy shot Janie a good-natured scowl.
"I think I'll leave that story to Randy," Janie said. "I don't think parking meter detail would go over well."
"Smart woman." Randy sat down and dug into his dinner. "Not bad." He grabbed an uneaten deviled egg from Sarah's plate. "Didn't realize how hungry I was."
"You miss lunch again?" Sarah asked.
He stopped eating long enough to answer. "I guess I did. Hadn't really thought about it until now. It's been busy." He reached over and squeezed Sarah's hand, enjoying the soft warmth of her fingers and the way her rings dug into his palm.
Janie glanced toward the field. "Looks like my husband has his hands full with the kids. I should him a hand." She picked up her beer and grinned at the two of them. "I can tell I'm not needed here."
Sarah sat in silence as Randy scraped the last few baked beans from his plate and licked his fingers. The band was running through a set of Eagles tunes. Randy took a swig of his beer and set the bottle on the table. He wiped his hands on his napkin and stood. "Dance with me?"
She held his hand as they meandered to the tennis court. The band played "Peaceful Easy Feeling" and she moved as though she was a part of him. God, did he love the smell of her hair. "I've missed you. It's like we've been in separate cities."
"Well, I was out of town for three days on a buying trip, or don't you remember?"
He laughed. "Of course I remember. But it didn't really seem any different. You've gone to work before I get home, and I'm gone when you get home. And even when I should have been home, something always came up. Damn cutbacks and double shifts."
"I understand. I knew that was part of the territory when I married you. No need to apologize."
"I'm not apologizing. Just missing you." He leaned down and nuzzled her hair. "Well, now I've got forty-eight hours off, and I'm spending every damn minute of them with you."
The music segued into "Desperado" and they swayed to the slower tempo. He pressed her against him. "We haven't had much time to talk, either," he said. "Anything you want to tell me?"
"Right now, I just want to feel you hold me. I think I miss that the most. Waking up at night knowing you're there. Being able to reach over and touch you."
He thought of the times he'd awakened and found her holding on to one of his fingers as she slept. Or her foot pressed against his leg. He leaned away so he could study her face. "Tell me the truth. Have you been having flashbacks again? Nightmares?"
"A couple," she admitted. "But a little Mahjongg, some chamomile tea, my relaxation exercises, and I'm fine. Honest. Never lost more than an hour's sleep."
"Which means three hours," Randy said. "No secrets. We're here for each other."
"Two episodes in three weeks is hardly worth mentioning."
"It's worth mentioning to me."
"From what I've learned at counseling, these things can go on for years. Maybe forever. I refuse to let them rule my life. You need to understand that."
He sighed and hugged her close. "I do. I just don't like to see you suffer, especially when I can't be there to help."
"Well, you can be there for the next two days. The shop is closed tomorrow, and I've got it covered all day Monday."
"Count on it."
The tempo changed as the band played "Take it to the Limit." Randy led Sarah in an easy waltz, absorbing the feel of her body against his. As the song drew to a close, he spun her in a series of pivot turns. He would have dipped her, too, but for the sudden panic in her eyes. Most of the color drained from her face, and a thin film of sweat glistened. "You all right?"
Hand over her mouth, she shook her head. Randy wrapped his arm around her waist and rushed her to a clump of bushes out of sight of the court. He held her hair out of her face as she emptied her stomach.
She looked up at him, a sheepish expression on her face, and accepted the handkerchief he offered. "Sorry," she said. "Got a little dizzy with that spin. Shouldn't have eaten that second hot dog."
Randy took her by the hand and walked her to his pickup, lifting her onto the seat. He reached for his water bottle and unscrewed the cap. "Flashbacks?" Ignoring his question, she sipped her drink. Her blue eyes caught his.
He felt like he'd been kicked in the head. God, how had he missed it? "I think maybe there's more."
"Maybe." She studied her lap.
"Why didn't you say something?"
"Why didn't you ask?"
"Don't you go doing that answer a question with a question bit." He crooked his fingers under her chin and lifted her face so her gaze met his. "But maybe I didn't want to get my hopes up. And I trusted you to tell me. So I blocked out the clues. Or chalked them up to flashbacks."
"Clues?"
"I am a detective, you know. It's what I do. Look at things and put two and two together."
"Two and two."
"But sometimes you're afraid of being wrong, so you ignore them. And then you get one of those right-between-the-eyes clues and everything falls into place."
"Between the eyes?"
"Would you stop repeating everything I say, dammit? Clues. The ginger tea in the mug by your bed. Three boxes of saltines in the cabinet. Ginger ale tonight instead of a beer. Coming home and the toilet seat is up. With all the grief you give me when I don't put it down, I don't know why it didn't register." He stopped to take a breath. Sarah looked at him, a solemn expression on her face.
"Go on," she said.
"And then there's the obvious one. But then, I haven't been around, haven't really been paying attention. And, since you've been off the pill, you're not regular anyway. That could have been from flashback stress, too. So, I kept my mouth shut because of your damn stubborn pride. When were you going to say something?"
"Well, Mr. Hot Shot Detective, what about the drugstore bag on the bathroom counter?" Her stone blue eyes sparkled, and he noticed the tiniest upturn at the corner of her mouth.
He realized he'd been shouting. Not because he was mad at her, but at himself. He kissed Sarah's forehead and softened his tone. "I haven't been to the house today. I was late, came here straight from work. What's in the bag?"
"You're the detective. You tell me."
For the first time, he admitted to himself that it might be real. His heart thumped. He grabbed her off the seat and hugged her.
"I wasn't trying to keep secrets," Sarah said. "I wanted to be sure. You seemed so disappointed the time I was four days late.
I thought we should do it together."
"You think this is it?" His voice was a rough croak.
"The test isn't a hundred per cent accurate, but I'm willing to put money on it. I'd hate to feel this lousy for nothing."
"I love you, Sarah. I am so sorry I yelled. I was worried, and mad, and disappointed, and—"
"Shh. I love you, too, Randy. Now, how about you take me home and we can check this out. Together."
Randy set her onto the seat. "On our way."
"Good. Do you think you might break the rules just this once and run with lights and sirens? I really need to pee."
He burst into laughter. "Just this once."
*****
Sarah dashed up the steps and shifted from foot to foot while Randy unlocked the door. Unbuttoning her jeans, she sped to the bathroom. She picked up the bag and removed the stick, glad now that she'd read the directions and had everything ready before she left for the picnic.
Finished, her hand trembled, and she set the stick on a paper towel on the counter. Afraid to look, she washed her hands and brushed her teeth.
Randy tapped on the door. "Everything okay?"
"Come in." He rested his hands on her shoulders, his touch sending a shiver down her spine.
"Well?" he said.
"It says wait at least one full minute. Maybe as long as ten."
"It's going to be a very long minute, isn't it?" He bent over and nuzzled the back of her neck. The tickle of his warm breath made her shudder.
God, she was shaking all over. "All of a sudden, I'm scared. Maybe you've been right all along. Maybe it's not fair to bring a kid into this world. All that evil out there, the economy's going to hell in a hand basket. Did we do the right thing?"
"Of course we did. You were right, as always, my sensible Sarah. We can't predict the future. We can only hope to make it better, and a child might be a way to do that. Besides, I thought you said you wanted something to remember me by."
"Don't you talk like that. I said I wanted a part of you. I want you, too, buster. Your job puts your life on the line, but like you said, you could be an accountant and get run over by a bus. There are no guarantees. Just don't do anything reckless, or I'll—I'll kill you."
He turned her around. "I love you. Either way. And we have lots of time ahead of us. A kiss for luck?"
She stood on tiptoe, and he bent down to meet her lips. She felt that warm glow spreading through her. "Mmm. Not yet. I think it's time." She let her fingers trickle down his chest. "My hands are shaking too much. You look."
Randy picked up the stick. "Okay. What am I looking for?" The stick trembled in his hands. She put her arm around his waist and leaned into him.
"Anything in the circle?"
"A blue line. Is that good?"
"Yes. Means the test is valid. What's in the square?" She closed her eyes and held her breath.
"Another blue line." She heard the click as he set the stick on the counter. "So?"
She exhaled. "So I call the doctor Monday, Dad."
He spun her around to face him. Tears glimmered in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. She grinned up at him.
"Umm … I think I want to sit down for a minute," he said. He staggered to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. "Dad. Oh, God, Sarah. A baby. You."
"Us," she whispered and sat next to him. She lifted his fingertips to her lips, then placed them on her belly. Those big, strong hands would be holding a baby soon. She wanted him. Wanted to share this new life in the most intimate way possible. "I love you so much. Make love with me." She reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt.
Randy groaned and reached for Sarah's hands. "I've been thinking of nothing else all day. But are you sure? Is it all right? You know … safe … for the … the baby."
"Of course it is. You won't be anywhere near it. Him. Her."
"But—"
She pressed her mouth against his, stifling any chance of reply.
He returned her kiss and ran his fingers through her hair. Pulling away, Sarah took his hands and pulled him to his feet. There was a tenderness in his eyes she'd never seen before.
"At least my knees aren't shaking anymore," he whispered. "But I have to tell you, this feels like our first time. I want you so much."
"I know. Me, too." She pulled down the bedcovers and turned to see Randy standing by the bed, motionless, staring at her. She began to unbutton her shirt.
"Wait," he said. "Come here. Let me. I want to look at you."
Sarah stepped around the bed and stood poised before him. Her knees were quaking again. "I'm yours." She stared into his eyes, those brown-flecked-with-hazel eyes that melted her insides. An involuntary gasp escaped when he reached for her.
Randy undid each button, kissing her chest as more and more of her lay open to him. He tugged the shirt from the waistband of her jeans and finished with the last two buttons. He slid the garment from her arms and let it drop to the floor. Lowering himself to his knees, he ran his lips over her belly. "A baby," he whispered.
His delicate touch sent another thrill though her. She felt the trembling of his fingers as he released the button and zipper of her jeans, slid them down past her hips. She tried to control her ragged breathing as Randy planted kiss after kiss on her body. Any more and she would have to sit down. She reached for him, but he refused her touch.
"My turn," he said. His kisses followed her jeans to her ankles, and she raised each leg in turn to step out of them. Every nerve ending fired messages of pleasure to her brain. He lowered her panties an inch at a time, still kissing in their wake, his strong pianist's fingers playing along the back of her legs. She gripped his hair, and she thought she would explode with the delight.
His kisses moved up her body. She tried to catch her breath while he shifted from his knees to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. His hands were hot velvet at her waist as he positioned her between his knees. He unfastened her bra, and the tingling that suffused her breasts as the cool night air swirled over them brought a gasp of pleasure. His lips moved to her breasts, and as his tongue played over her nipples, it was as if lightning coursed between them and her loins. And then his fingers stroked between her legs, and she lost all control as his touch brought her shuddering to climax. Finally, he lowered her to the bed beside him. He shrugged out of his shirt and reached for his belt buckle.
"I'd help you, but I can't breathe, much less move," she said. She saw a flicker of alarm in his eyes.
His hands froze on his belt. "Are you okay?"
"Oh, God, yes. I can't believe … I mean, one touch, and wham!"
Randy held her gaze as he released his zipper. "I think my jeans must have shrunk."
Sarah giggled. "Sorry about that. I guess maybe we should take them off, then."
He bent down to remove his shoes and socks. Sarah found the strength to reach over and run her still quivering fingers along his muscled torso. "My turn. Lie down."
Randy yanked off his other sock and pulled off his jeans and briefs. Sarah knelt at the center of the bed, waiting. When he scooted to her and drew her face to his, she pulled away.
"No," she said. "You lie there. No moving. I said it was my turn." She ran her fingers along the silky smoothness behind his ears. Her lips caressed the hollow above his collarbone. He moaned, and she scraped her teeth along his nipples. Her hands explored downward. She kneaded his thighs. Her fingertips grazed along his erection, then moved away. She saw his clenched jaw as he struggled to remain still. She repeated the motion. And again. His hips arched, and she ached to feel him joined with her.
"You're driving me crazy," he groaned. She turned over and opened herself to him. Poised above her, he hesitated. "Please. Tell me if anything feels wrong." He eased himself inside her. She wriggled against him, gasping as he stroked, ever so slowly.
"All right?"
"More than all right. Don't stop." She pulled his hips against her body, bringing him deeper.
"
Oh, God," he said. "You feel so good."
She rocked gently beneath him, losing herself in the pleasure of being complete. Her hips seemed to have taken control of her body, moving faster, seeking release.
"No, you don't," Randy said, half withdrawing. "Not yet. I want more."
She dug her nails into his buttocks, but he waited. She was aware of him counting to ten before he began again. As his passion grew, so did his tempo, and Sarah begged him for fulfillment.
He pulled back once more. Fifteen counts before he began again. This time, the tempo quickened much faster and she could stand it no longer.
"Oh, God, Randy," she cried. "I can't wait. Now. Now!" And her entire being concentrated on that one tiny part of her, and there was nothing else, and Randy gave one final thrust, and called her name, and a wild crescendo filled her.
Later, when her toes uncurled, she felt a kiss on the tip of her nose.
"You all right?" His breathing was still ragged.
"You keep asking me. God, how could I not be all right? That was amazing. I don't know if it's because of the abstinence, or the hormones, or just because you're fantastic."
"I'll go with the last," Randy said. "Mom."
"Mom," she repeated. Tears brimmed.
He withdrew and turned on his side, drawing Sarah into him, spoon fashion. He placed a hand over her belly, and they lay there together. The three of them. A family.
*****
Eight months later
Sarah stood at the window and stared at the clouds, glowing a pinkish gold in the setting sun. She felt Randy's hands at her shoulders and leaned against him.
"You all right?" He nuzzled her hair. "You've been quiet lately."
"I'm fine," she said, but didn't turn around. No need for him to see the tears in her eyes. She reached up and squeezed his hands.
As if he understood, Randy draped his arms over her and cupped her swollen belly. The child inside her gave a kick, whether in protest or recognition, Sarah never knew. But any time Randy touched her abdomen, the baby acknowledged it. She put her small hands over the much larger ones of her husband.
