Learning to Love Again 2

by A. K. Rose

“Now, about these jeans . . .” Rachel whispered huskily as she pulled on denim, carefully removing a pair of satin panties, and then looking straight into the mocha brown eyes that so obviously wanted her. She wanted to always cause the look of need in Cassie’s eyes, the match that lit the gasoline on fire, the start of a fiery explosion that could only be created when they touched. Her life had changed for the better the day a nervous young lawyer appeared in it, and she knew she wanted to spend the rest of her days making sure Cassie knew how much she loved her, how much she wanted her.

  Without breaking eye contact, Rachel slid her hand lower across Cassie’s abdomen, causing a reflexive shudder, not stopping until she reached the source of warmth she’d caused. Sliding a finger inside, she was met with a whimper, wetness surrounding her, her palm replacing the pressure previously provided by her thigh and then felt Cassie reciprocating—she wasn’t expecting that. Rachel wanted this to be about Cassie, but somehow they’d found a position where they could be together simultaneously, where they could find a rhythm and sync their bodies in a beautiful melody heading for the same crescendo.

  As they rocked into each other in harmony, lips on lips, heat building, eyes closed and hearts pounding, Cassie’s breath hitched, the tune of her release music to Rachel’s ears, and enough to send her into a climax of her own. It was the first time they’d had an almost simultaneous orgasm; it was, Rachel thought, the closest they’d ever been.

  “I love you more than you’ll ever know,” she whispered, tucking a strand of stray hair behind Cassie’s ear as she did.

  “I think I know,” Cassie said, gasping for air as if she’d just run a marathon, “because I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

  They lay together in silence, breathing, tucked into a human spoon on the couch, landscape lighting providing a soft glow outside, surrounded by total darkness inside. Words weren’t needed in the moment, but Rachel had something she wanted to discuss. She’d been saving the news—she wanted it to be a surprise.

  “Hey,” she said, sitting up and placing Cassie’s legs in her lap, careful not to hurt the still-healing left leg. “Jackie called this morning.”

  “Jackie did? Why?”

  “She found a place out in Dripping Springs . . . it’s a small ranch . . . very small. It’s twenty acres with a nice homestead, completely private, room to spread out, in our price range . . . and it just came on the market. She wanted to know if we wanted to see it.”

  “We do, we do!” Cassie enthused.

  “I thought you’d say that, so while you were driving home, I went with her to see it. To check it out and see if you needed to bother.”

  “You did, without telling me?”

  “Yeah, but only because I know you have a crazy week at work, I wanted to see if it was even worth your time.”

  “And?”

  “Cass, you need to see this place. It’s phenomenal. It’s perfect for our dream, just . . . perfect,” Rachel smiled, taking in the view to the oak tree in her back yard awash with white light. She’d miss that tree, but the ranch in Dripping Springs was dotted with oak trees every bit as big, and with so much land they’d have more than just trees. They could have a huge garden and livestock, and room to grow their family.

  “You liked it, huh?”

  “I loved it. And I think you will too. The house was built a couple years ago, so it doesn’t need work—apparently the current owners tore down the original house when they bought it because it was dilapidated. There’s an outbuilding that I thought would be a perfect home office for you, where you could build your blog and start your non-profit. And we could have the chickens and goats, a garden . . . a porch swing.”

  “It sounds too good to be true,” Cassie said, the lawyer in her wondering where the catch was. Rachel had just described their perfect property: Close enough to the city that they wouldn’t feel like they were in the middle of nowhere, but far enough to be away from the hustle and bustle of city life. Space to spread out and a house that didn’t need work. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing, as far as I know. The owners are getting divorced, so they’re selling it. I think it’s going to sell fast though, so can you get off work a little early tomorrow? I want to take you there. Jackie already called their realtor to let them know we want to see it again.”

  “Yeah,” Cassie smiled, realizing the dream could be materializing in front of her, in that moment. They could be setting up to start their lives together in a place that was theirs, a place where Cassie could set up shop and dig in, where she could start her non-profit. “Let’s do it.”

  “It’ll be a great place to raise kids . . .” Rachel added, not so much as an afterthought but as a matter-of-fact statement.

  “Wait.”

  “Wait?”

  “You want to have kids? I thought . . . you and Elise broke up over her wanting kids . . .”

  “Yes and no. That’s technically why we broke up, but honey, we were a disaster together. We bickered all the time. We were all chemistry and no compatibility, I told you that.”

  “I guess, I just thought since you gave your son up for adoption, and then Elise . . .”

  “Cassie,” Rachel said firmly, taking a throw pillow from Cassie’s hands and tossing it aside, taking her hands to still them, “I want a family with you, if you do, too. The timing wasn’t right before. The circumstances weren’t right before. You just told me your mother is begging for more grandchildren. Do you want kids someday?”

  “I do.”

  “Then, I do, too. Why are we just now having this conversation?”

  “I have no idea. I just assumed you don’t want kids, and I want you more than I wanted to think about not having kids. The thought of not having you in my life was terrifying to me—so I was willing to sacrifice what I wanted to be with you.”

  “I never want you to sacrifice anything to be with me,” Rachel said, determination in her eyes. “I want you to have everything you want—everything—and I want us to be the coolest, most loving moms a couple of kids could ever want. I want to have a family, a garden, a life filled with joy—together. So what do you say? Tomorrow, we’ll go to Dripping Springs and see if you agree, if this is our dream land?”

  “I’d love to . . . thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. I didn’t do anything.”

  “You did, just by being you. You believe in me, you support my dreams, and now, you . . . well, you know a lot of people would’ve just told me ‘I found our house,’ but you went and saw it to see if you thought I’d like it. You want my opinion; you want me to have a say in the decision.”

  “Why . . . Cass, why wouldn’t I? We’re in this together—it’s our life now—I want to know what you want, too.”

  “I guess that’s just it,” Cassie sighed. “I’ve never been with someone who wanted my input like you do. It’s special, what we have. Most people only hope to find it.”

  “You’re right, most people do only hope. And we’re lucky, so let’s make a promise right now. If you ever feel differently, if you ever think somehow the balance has shifted or we’re not communicating like we should, say something, okay? And I’ll do the same. I’m committed completely—I don’t want us to end up a statistic.”

  “It’s a promise,” Cassie said, leaning in to kiss the smile on Rachel’s face, contentment washing over her as she realized the future was setting up to be better than she could’ve imagined.

  THIRTEEN

  Jessica Taylor walked into the courtroom in downtown Austin as she’d done for the previous two weeks, black skirt suit pressed neatly, briefcase in one hand and a to-go cup of coffee in the other. Day in, day out, she sat behind the lead counsel and waited to be needed. She’d been called upon a few times to find a case to reference and occasionally to make copies or go get a coffee order, but as yet, she hadn’t had to participate much in the suit. And, that was fine by her. As the trial wore on, she was more and more disgusted with the client an
d her firm for representing it.

  The days were long and dull, and she found her mind wandering over and over, dreaming of a day when she could go back to her research library, out of the spotlight, back into her element. Back to the stacks of books, to the silence and solitude of the fifteenth floor of her firm’s building. It was almost Valentine’s Day, so she also found her mind wandering to Lana Parker. She’d been thinking of what to do for her, how to make their first Valentine’s Day special. She knew The Crickets had a gig that night, so whatever she did, it would have to work around the band. Just as she always did when she’d found herself in a far off land thinking of Lana, she shook her head and came back to the moment, back to the courtroom.

  When Jessica found out she was going to participate in this case, she’d been interested, intrigued even, at what might happen. The reality was, she didn’t like it at all. She felt strongly that the client had abused its monopoly to raise the price of its medication simply for the sake of profit, and for weeks she’d heard both sides argue their points. If she was lucky, this would be the last week on trial. If she was lucky. Both sides had high-priced attorneys and ample witnesses; both sides were determined to prevail. After all, more than a hundred million dollars was on the line.

  As Jessica reached her all-too-familiar table and placed her briefcase on the floor, it struck her. She’d been thinking about how this case would probably become a precedent when it was finally decided—she knew that this stop in state court was just the first of a lengthy battle for both sides. The jury would probably side with plaintiffs, which meant it would be appealed at the Texas Supreme Court level, and could even potentially go to the Supreme Court. There was no way the pharma company would back down with so much money on the line. This case was more than a class-action suit about pharmaceuticals. In some ways, it was a child abuse case. In some ways, it could even be considered a medical malpractice suit because the pharmaceutical company knowingly increased the cost of medicine that was proven to work, thus harming and even failing to save the lives of children as a result.

  Landeros v. Flood, Jessica thought, and knew immediately she had a way for the plaintiff to win the case. The problem was, she was on the side of the defense. She was supposed to help her firm win the case, not come up with precedents that could help the other side, their adversaries. But, that’s just what she’d done. The case set a precedent that if properly spun, could back the argument that the pharmaceutical company had essentially been involved in child neglect by failing to make a viable treatment available. It was a brilliant connection, one that she was certain no one else was considering, but it did her no good. She pulled her steno pad from her briefcase, scribbled Landeros v. Flood on the cover, and sat, conflicted.

  # # #

  He watched her.

  In his car—an old Buick that looked brand new because it had been meticulously cared for—he sat outside her house and watched. Waited. He’d followed her home, as he did every day, hoping to get another glimpse of the spunky young redhead that sat behind the Anderson, Smith and Smith table in state court every weekday.

  He knew all about her by now.

  She was thirty-one. She grew up in San Marcos but moved to San Antonio when she was fourteen because her dad got a job with the power company. Her mother had been a stay-at-home mom until they’d moved to San Antonio, when she got a part-time job working at a fabric store. She’d been in Austin for thirteen years; she studied sociology in undergrad and graduated from law school in the top ten percent of her class. She’d worked at her firm for six years as a research attorney. Before that, she’d spent a year at a small firm that fought mostly traffic court cases. She was into live music, and was dating a female bass player who was a social worker; they spent most nights of the week together. It was, as far as he could tell, the first time she’d been romantically linked with a woman.

  And that piece of information was all he needed. That was the bit that was going to turn the tables for him. Jessica Taylor would be the fall guy in his plot to bring down O’Ryan Labs, the maker of the medication that could’ve saved his son’s life, if only it wasn’t prohibitively expensive.

  He’d been following her for weeks, trying to find the angle. Trying to find her dirty laundry so he could threaten to air it—so she would cooperate with him to provide the info he needed about her firm’s strategy for O’Ryan. He wasn’t above blackmail, not at all. He’d bumped into her several times, his clumsiness on full display as he tried to get close to her, but amazingly she didn’t seem suspicious. He reckoned she was too in love with the social worker to see what was going on around her. He remembered what that was like. Before she’d left him, before he changed, he and Alicia had been that way. In love, starry-eyed, building a family.

  Jackson Healy was a man on a mission. Ever since his son died at eighteen months old, he’d been unable to think about anything else. Sammy was born with HIV. Alicia had been in a car accident when she was pregnant and needed a blood transfusion. Somehow, even in the present day, with all the checks and balances, she’d received HIV positive blood. It seemed like a cruel joke; it seemed impossible. That accident had changed their lives. It was the tipping point for a series of horrible events, the last of which was the death of their only child before he was even two years old.

  Jackson had never recovered. Alicia couldn’t cope with his obsession; she had her own problems. So, they went their separate ways. She thought he neglected her—her feelings, her life, her pain—and focused on himself. He never once consoled her for the impact of the accident on her life. After all, she now had HIV. He’d been so obsessed with Sammy’s death that he’d lost sight of what they had to live for. The spark in his eyes had dulled, what used to be a fiery flame now non-existent.

  He’d been obsessed with taking down O’Ryan Labs, and now was the time for his plan to unfold. He’d gone to court the very first day of the case—the case he’d been waiting on for years—and sat in the back row, observing. When he noticed a pretty young woman behind the lead counsel desk staring into space and doodling in her notebook, he knew he’d found his mark. She was young and clearly not invested in the case; she would be the perfect way in.

  Patiently, he’d followed her. He’d listened as she talked to her friend in the sandwich shop, his business suit and tidy appearance allowing him to blend right in with the other patrons. He’d almost blundered when he bumped into her, but she didn’t seem to notice. He’d trailed her as she and her girlfriend walked on the Lady Bird Lake trail, again almost blowing it by bumping into them as he jogged, but getting close enough to listen to their conversation.

  He’d been through her trash, but hadn’t yet gone as far as to bug her house, though he’d thought about it plenty. Luckily, he decided, he didn’t need to. The fact that she was seeing a woman was all he needed. At least that’s what he thought. It should be enough to intimidate her into helping him.

  Soon it would be time to make his move. The case would be over any day now, and he was anxious, but he reminded himself that timing mattered. He would wait a little longer until it was time for the ruling in the case. He too knew it was headed for an appeal. The appeal was what mattered. Knowing what Anderson, Smith and Smith had planned for the impending appeal was most important. The long game over the short game, he reminded himself.

  So, he sat. He waited. He plotted his next move and thought of his son. “I’m going to get justice for you, Sammy,” he whispered as he looked at the photo of a young boy in his hand. “I’m going to get justice.”

  FOURTEEN

  As they drove out of Austin during rush hour, Cassie watched the scenery change from dense, bumper-to-bumper traffic against a backdrop of tall buildings to more spaced out one-level stores to finally, wide open spaces, rolling hills, and a big, open sky. They weren’t going far, but it felt like they were headed to another planet. The hustle and bustle of the city was left behind for fields plowed neatly in straight lines, cattle grazing, farm houses and tractor
s and . . . freedom. Pulling into the long gravel drive of the ranch in Dripping Springs, she could finally exhale.

  They’d talked about it a lot. Finding the land in the country. Not too close but not too far away. The cute house, the porch swing. Animals. A Garden. A quiet life shared over laughs and smiles and less stress. Cassie knew dreaming was one thing. Dreaming was easy. Reality—what was actually possible—was another entirely. The plan had been to wait five years. To keep working, save money, plan and plot, and then reduce their dependency on material things. Get back to nature, focus on what mattered, live an authentic life while still working part-time. As tends to happen, things changed. Life happened. Priorities shifted. Since Cassie’s accident, waiting five years seemed like torture. Hell, waiting five days seemed like torture.

  Rachel’s dental practice was thriving—she was busier than ever—and as a result, more ready than ever to pull back. She’d been thinking of bringing in a partner, sharing the load, diversifying and splitting the costs of the office and the support staff. Cassie’s accident had lit a spark in her as well. They were ready. Time was irrelevant. Life was happening now, not five years from now. They were lucky to be in a position to make it happen, and they weren’t going to waste a minute.

  The house was set back from the road quite a distance—at least a quarter of a mile—Cassie thought. It was private, and she knew immediately: it was perfect. White clapboards, white shutters, white windows, steep dormers on the second level, classic farm house metal roof, and a wrap-around porch. A splash of color in the bright red door, but otherwise completely timeless in its appearance. She took Rachel’s hand from the steering wheel and smiled, “I love it.”

  “You haven’t even seen inside yet!” Rach said, happy with Cassie’s initial reaction. She’d already seen the place and loved it, but it wasn’t her decision alone. They were shopping for their home. It needed to be a mutual decision. Rach wanted Cassie to love it every bit as much as she did, or they’d keep looking. They’d looked at more than a dozen homes at this point and hadn’t found the one they both loved. As she shifted her Lexus into ‘park,’ she felt excitement bubbling up into her chest, butterflies flitting in her stomach. This home on this land felt special to her; she was hopeful it would feel the same to Cassie. “Want to walk around a bit before Jackie gets here?”