by A. K. Rose
“This walk got really deep . . .” Jessica said, once again studying the crushed rock beneath her feet, white running shoes no longer even a hint of white and splattered with mud, “. . . but you’re right. I’m guilty, no doubt. I can get caught up in my own head and forget perspective. I forget each day is a gift. I take for granted that I’m going to live to be old and grey.”
“I certainly hope you do . . .” Lana said, placing her hand on Jessica’s thigh to comfort her. “. . . live to be old and grey. Come on, we need to keep going if we’re going to finish this walk today. And you can tell me what your dreams really are while we walk . . .”
ELEVEN
“Mom?” Cassie called as she stepped into the foyer of her mother’s house, overnight bag slung over her shoulder. The door was unlocked, as it generally was in daylight hours. Marion Hollander had an open door policy, quite literally. Before she knew it, her sister’s son was wrapped around her leg, giving her one of his signature hugs. “Hey buddy! Where’s your mom?”
“Backyard,” CJ answered, and held on tight as Cassie started to walk, letting her lift him with each step, their tradition intact. “Walk faster, Auntie Casseeeeeee,” CJ begged.
“I can’t, buddy! You’re getting too big for Auntie to carry you like this. Do you remember I hurt my leg? I had a boo-boo; I’m not as strong anymore.”
“Oh, right,” CJ smiled as he let go and then placed a gentle kiss on Cassie’s leg. “All better now!”
“Hey,” Claire called as her sister stepped through the back door into her mother’s yard. “It’s about time you showed your face around here.”
“Good to see you, too,” Cassie offered as she took her sister in a side hug. CJ helped me with my PT just now.”
“I did, mommy,” CJ said proudly, “and I kissed her boo-boo. It’s all better now.”
“Good job, sport,” Claire encouraged. “Hey, I want to talk to Auntie Cassie, why don’t you go play with your Tonka trucks? Go dig up some rocks and haul them around.”
With that simple suggestion, CJ was gone, the mere thought of Tonka trucks all it took to steal his attention. The mind of a young boy was easy to occupy, but Claire worried about the day when her son would have opinions of his own about how to spend his time.
Their mother’s backyard was immaculate, shrubs perfectly trimmed, trees shaped, and tulips emerging early from raised beds that bordered the fence line. The one exception was a small square sandbox that had been set aside especially for her only grandson so he could dig and build and play for hours. It was the perfect spot for him, and he was endlessly amused with the sand and pebbles she’d provided him.
“Where’s Mom?” Cassie questioned, taking her twin sister’s hand as they sat on the edge of the wooden deck to watch CJ play.
“She went to Wal-Mart to get some fertilizer,” Claire said flatly.
“She knew I was coming, and she went to Wal-Mart?”
“You’ve met her.”
“Yeah, you’re right. It’s January, but Lord help us, Marion Hollander needs fertilizer; no one get in her way! So, how’ve you been?”
“Good . . . good,” Claire said before turning her attention, “CJ! Stay in your play box, hon, don’t mess up Gran’s flowers. . . anyway, yeah, it’s been good. Tom’s business is really thriving. New Year’s resolutions and everyone’s on a health kick, so they’re getting plenty of acupuncture. CJ is growing so fast—that kid is going to be able to out-run me soon.”
“That’s good, I’m glad to hear it.”
“Yeah . . . so, how are you? Still frustrated at work? Where’s Rachel, anyway?”
“Oh, she needed to stay home this weekend. She sees patients on the weekends once a month . . . for those that can’t come on the weekdays. So, I planned this trip around her working weekend. I thought it would be good to just have family time, anyway.”
“Does that irritate you? The working weekend?”
“No, not at all. It’s an occupational hazard, I knew it from the beginning. It’s fine. Gives me an opportunity to do my own thing sometimes. It works out.”
“Okay, so, how’s your job?” Claire asked, straightening her legs and crossing her feet at the ankles as she leaned back on the deck, equally straightened arms behind her supporting her torso. They’d sat on this deck so many times over the years, watching birds feed from the numerous feeders, talking about their lives and dreams, gossiping about people they knew, sharing sister moments. It was January but not cold, the low 70s temperature making it quite pleasant to sit outside.
“I’m thinking of doing something crazy,” Cassie said, mimicking her sister’s relaxed position, legs stretched out in front of her. “I’m thinking of leaving the AG’s office.”
“You are?! I knew you were unhappy this year, but why leave?”
“Well, you know my blog?”
“Yeah?”
“Claire, it’s doing really well. I’ve started making money from it, but more importantly, it’s making a difference. I get emails from people every week thanking me for the resources I’ve put together, sharing my story, and pointing them in the right direction in terms of legal options for accident victims. The law is hard to navigate if you’ve been in an accident. Lawyers won’t always take your case—if they don’t think they can win, they pass. It can be such a frustrating place to be. I like that I’m already making a difference for people, with such a small effort so far.”
“That’s amazing! So, what are you thinking, full-time blogger? People do that all the time, you know? I know so many moms that make a living writing food blogs or mommy blogs or knitting blogs, you name it.”
“Not quite,” Cassie said as she watched CJ pile rocks into his yellow dump truck. “I definitely want to put more into the blog, but I’m thinking of starting a non-profit. Like, providing pro bono legal services for accident victims that can’t get a lawyer. And then flipping the business model. Most accident lawyers take between thirty and forty percent of the settlement if they win a case, but nothing if they lose. That’s why it can be hard to get an attorney for some people, especially if it’s going to be a small settlement. No lawyer wants to work hours for thirty percent of something like five-thousand dollars. But I want to change the model. I want to take the hard cases, no matter the potential settlement, and help people feel whole again. That’s what I learned from my accident. Money isn’t important in the scheme. When you’re in an accident, you lose more than money, more than time. You lose a feeling of wholeness. You feel broken, and when you can’t get help, you feel powerless, too. I want to give accident victims the power position, and I think I’m in a unique place to do it.”
“Wow, sister, when did you get so . . . brave?”
“I guess you could say I’ve figured it out.”
“Figured what out?”
“The secret to life. I mean, there’s no secret really, but I realized I want to do something to serve other people—more so than I do for the state—I want to help fight injustice. After all, I went to law school for a reason. I want to do something I feel passion for, and right now, at this time in my life, I’m ready to do this.”
“You really are, I can tell. By the way, watching you the past few months has been incredible,” Claire said. “You’ve finally come into your own. You finally stopped trying to be what you thought you should be, who you thought you should be . . .”
“I really have. Rachel has helped a lot with that. She’s so supportive; she just wants me to do what makes me happy. I guess I never had that last bit of confidence before, and together, well, she helps me be better.”
“Mommy!” CJ yelled louder than necessary, eager to show his progress. “Look! I filled up the whole truck, I’m ready to build a dam now!”
“That’s great, baby, keep working!” Claire answered back with a smile.
“He knows what a dam is?”
“Oh yeah, this kid is very interested in building. I blame Bob the Builder!”
“Has he star
ted remodeling your house yet?” Cassie joked.
“Not yet, thankfully, but I’m sure it won’t be long. Tom got him a toolbox with actual tools in it. No plastic hammers for our son, he has the real deal. Anyway, back to your idea, I think that’s great. You’re in a good place; it’s nice to see.”
“I am. It’s scary though. There is so much work to do, and I won’t have the stability of a regular paycheck. It’s a risk.”
“Yes, but some of the best things in life happen when you take a risk.”
“I’m learning, but Dad’s voice is always in my head, ‘Save your money. . .’”
“He was a banker, Cass. Of course he said that. But he also died way too young and hardly ever had any fun. Don’t be like Dad, okay? Be like you. Live your life. Take some risks. I think what you’re planning is great. I wish . . .”
“You wish?”
“Sometimes,” Claire admitted, “I wish I’d taken a few more risks. For ‘the free spirit,’ I’m living quite the standard-issue existence, except I never got married. I mean, man, kid, house, it’s pretty cookie cutter.”
“Aren’t you happy?”
“Oh yes, for sure. Tom’s the love of my life, and CJ is my everything, but there are times I remember I used to be crazy. I used to have dreams, too, outside of teaching yoga and cooking, cleaning, and repeating. Don’t get me wrong, I’m really happy with how my life turned out, but I don’t want you to lose sight of your dream, okay? Do it. Start your non-profit. Make a difference.”
“I will. I’m going to. I’m just working on an exit strategy from the state. And, we’re planning our wedding and shopping for houses. It’s just a timing thing. I’m still figuring that part out. But, it’s going to happen. In the next year, I want to make it happen.”
Just then, Marion Hollander appeared through the side gate, huffing and puffing with a forty-pound bag of fertilizer wrapped in a bear hug. She dropped the bag near the garden shed and looked up, out of breath.
“Cassie! Honey! I’m so glad to see you . . . pardon my mess.”
“Mom,” Cassie said, smiling, as she got up to give her mother a hug. “What mess? Your garden is immaculate, as usual.”
“Oh, I’m behind on the weeding, and Wal-Mart didn’t have the fertilizer I wanted so I had to go to Home Depot, and I’m behind schedule on everything.” Marion’s forehead was dotted with sweat, her heavy frame burdened from carrying the fertilizer to her backyard from the car. She’d worked up a lather in just twenty steps.
“I think it looks great . . . it’s great to see you.”
“It’s great to see you too, honey. I’m glad you came. Where’s Rachel?”
“Oh, she’s seeing patients this weekend. You just get me this time,” Cassie said, arm across her mother’s shoulders, pulling her in as she continued. “We have lots to catch up on, anyway. I want to tell you about wedding planning and house shopping . . .”
“Oh, that’s . . . I’d love to hear about it. Shall we go in? I need to get cleaned up and maybe we could go have some lunch? My treat.”
“Gran!” CJ interrupted as he pushed his Tonka truck toward his grandmother, blonde curls stuck to his forehead, “Look! I’m building a dam.”
“That’s brilliant, sweetie,” Marion said, whisking the boy into her arms for a big hug. “Oh, you are getting so big. I keep forgetting you’re not little anymore!”
“I’m not!” CJ insisted.
“Are you hungry?” Marion asked with extra excitement in her tone.
“Yeah!”
“Okay, let’s all go in and get cleaned up. We’re going to lunch soon. And . . . if you’re good, you can choose the place.”
“I choose pizza,” CJ said, certain.
“Okay, let’s get cleaned up and we’ll go have pizza,” Marion smiled at her daughters. She loved being a grandmother and secretly hoped Cassie would provide her with another. Claire had made it clear one was plenty. “You know,” she said to Cassie, “you’re not too old to have one of your own . . .”
“Mom. One thing at a time,” Cass insisted. “Let’s go in and I’ll tell you what we’re thinking for the wedding.”
“I’m just saying, you’re not too old . . .”
Leave it to Marion to be like a dog with a bone on the topic of grandchildren. She wasn’t going to let this one go, and Cassie knew it. “Okay, I’m not too old. Now, let’s go in . . .”
TWELVE
“I missed you,” Rachel said, greeting Cassie by the back door with a tender kiss. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s good. Crazy, as usual, but good . . . she wanted to talk to me about grandkids the whole time . . .”
“That’s good,” Rachel whispered as her lips found the bare skin of an inviting neck, knowing exactly where to deliver attention to shut down the conversation. The last thing on her mind was talking; she only asked to be polite.
“Hon, are you listening to me?”
“Mmm-hmmm . . .”
“Grandkids . . .” Cassie repeated, finding herself distracted as well, the touch of this woman on her skin sending chills through her body, igniting a fire in her she didn’t think could ever burn out.
“Oh, yeah? Want to go make a baby?”
“Come on, be serious!”
“Okay, sweetheart, I’m serious. I missed you while you were gone and I’ve been thinking all day about taking you into that bedroom and showing you just how much,” Rachel said with the tilt of her head as her skilled dentist’s hands fought to make space between the waistband of Cassie’s jeans and bare skin, unable to create the space she wanted. “Augh, these jeans are in my way . . .”
Cassie heard herself sigh audibly, the sheer pleasure of Rachel’s hands on her body forcing the automatic response, as lips grazed her neck, warm breath brushed her skin in the most sensual way. Before she knew it, her jeans were unzipped, Rachel’s hands firmly grasping her ass, and for a moment, she forgot they were standing in between a washer and dryer, the scent of laundry detergent filling the air. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable or romantic location for the inevitable.
“I love you so much,” Cassie whispered. “I missed you too . . . and I want to know how this story unfolds, but not here. Come with me,” she said, holding out her hand and when fingers interlaced with hers, guided them the dozen steps to the couch. There wasn’t time to make it to the bedroom—that would never work in the heat of this moment—so she settled for the closest horizontal surface and as lips met lips and pulses raced, found the momentary composure to lie down on the long portion of their L-shaped sectional.
Cassie was pinned to the couch, wedged into the backrest, wrists held firmly, long brown hair tickling her cheek, and she worked to turn off her busy mind. Thoughts about work could wait. Thoughts of her mother and sister and the aggressively-requested grandchildren could wait. House buying and wedding planning could also wait. All that mattered in the moment was two people on a couch, body heat rising, desire mounting, love for each other only growing.
Rachel tasted like red wine—Merlot, it seemed—she’d clearly been enjoying a glass before Cassie arrived home. For some reason, she was completely turned on by the taste of alcohol, the earthy dryness of the wine lingering on her tongue as it crashed into Rachel’s. She basked in the electricity that lit her up when those perfect teeth nipped her lower lip, when Rachel’s tongue caressed the roof of her mouth, when fingernails scraped her scalp in a way she never knew could be so powerful until they’d met.
“You’re still wearing way too many clothes,” Rachel insisted as she tugged on a loose T-shirt that said UH Law in block letters, a throwback to Cassie’s college days. “This needs to go . . .”
Without the artificial barrier of the T-shirt and bra, Rachel traced a finger the length of Cassie’s torso, pausing momentarily to tend to a supple breast, taking a nipple between her thumb and forefinger and pinching gently before continuing, following her fingers with her lips on the other side, sucking more firmly on an impossibly ha
rd nipple. Cassie was visibly aroused, but Rachel didn’t stop there. “You’re absolutely gorgeous. I’m so lucky . . . and I’m going to make every inch of your body scream out in pleasure . . .”
“God, you have no idea what you’re already doing to me,” Cassie said, eyes shut tight as she gave in, the world around her dark but the sensation in her body in high definition full color, hands now roaming the length of her torso with such a light touch they were barely perceptible.
Rachel had always been an attentive lover, and this day was no different. She took her time, she paid attention as Cassie reacted, her own body responding to hands on her back, the light touch of short fingernails on her skin drawing goosebumps. Rachel lowered herself just enough to reach sensitive inner thighs and massaged gently before dragging a finger over Cassie’s most intimate area, still covered in denim.
“Rach, I need to take these off . . .”
“You do, yes, but not yet,” Rachel insisted as she worked her thigh in between Cassie’s legs and added a little pressure, rocking slowly. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she’d tease a little longer. The ordinarily large couch seemed so small in the moment, but it also worked to her advantage, providing an intimate setting for her seduction.
“Please, hon . . . I need to feel your skin . . .” Cassie pleaded, increasingly interested in shedding her jeans, in feeling skin on skin, in having Rachel’s hands on her body.
When she didn’t think Cassie could take it anymore, the pressure and the movement and the sheer heat of two bodies so close together almost pushing her over the edge, Rach relented. She had been watching Cassie’s face, she knew the look. They’d been together long enough, she could read her lover so well that she knew when to back off. She knew when to stop teasing, so she did, stopping to undress slowly, one item at a time, a personal strip tease just for the love of her life.
