Dirty Neighbor
Page 13
My eyes drifted to the photo on the wall next to the courtroom photo—Daddy, Jonathon’s father, and Judge Rafferty on a fishing trip last year. I knew they had a good time despite the fact they hadn’t caught any fish. And looking at Judge Rafferty in Bermuda shorts made me realize why he preferred the judge’s robe.
“Mommy, can I go outside and play?”
Four year old hands tugging on my skirt—I never thought I would like the feeling as much as I did.
“Stay where I can see you, Johnny, don’t go past the jungle gym. And remember, you’re not to go into the fields.”
“OK Mommy.”
I watched him scoot his way down the stairs and I walked over to the window to watch him as he ran outside. He progress was halted by a half dozen of the employees on his way out there. It always was. But he eventually made it to the sand box where he would likely be for the next two hours.
My eyes drifted to our expanse of property. From my office window I had a clear view of what had once been McCallister property butting up against Hawthorne property, and a hotly contested piece of land in between. Back then it was all talk about steer and wheat and fences, but none of that meant anything to me anymore.
The only thing that marked that piece of land now was a little garden that Jonathon’s father had planted in memory of my mother. It was a sweet gesture—a little rosebush oasis in the middle of all those greenhouses. Some days I could just sit here with my basil root tea and stare out the window for hours…
“What a surprise finding you here, my sexy, dirty neighbor.”
Arms around my waist and his lips on my neck almost make me forget how much I hated it when he called me that.
“Shouldn’t you be working, Jonathon?”
“I am working. Someone needs to work around here. My dad is off with your father on another one of their stupid hunting trips. Your father realizes my dad is vegan, right?”
“I’m pretty sure they’re officially retired, honey. Co-presidents in name only. And yes, Daddy knows he’s vegan, they spend enough time together. My father couldn’t hit a deer if it walked in front of him half the time, anyway. He sucks with a gun. It’s cute how they get along, though.”
“Whatever. We need to start talking about another tax deduction though. I hate to say this, but we’re a little too profitable. Your boathouse restoration project was nice, but we should consider something a little bigger for the tax benefit.”
My brilliant husband and his Notre Dame accounting degree. I just loved the two of them to death.
“I already told you—the Agnes Hawthorne memorial community center. Your father’s rose garden is nice, Jon, but just think about it.”
He stepped over to me and kissed me on the lips. Hard.
“It’s Jonathon.”
His hands dropped to mine and I felt him playing with the ring on my left hand.
“Isn’t it time we get you another ring, honey? I was in Clark County Jewelers last week. They’ve got a three-carat solitaire in the case that I think would look perfect on your finger.”
I removed my hand from his and admired my humble little ring. I remembered getting it properly sized and being sick without it on my finger for the ten days that it took to get it back.
“This ring is perfect for me, sweetheart. I wouldn’t trade this one for the world. If it makes you feel any better, though, get the three-carat and have it put onto a necklace for me.”
I was half kidding, but his answer was all serious.
“Whatever you say, Olivia.”
I leaned up to kiss him, but was rudely interrupted.
“Ooh—I just felt the baby kick. Here, she’s doing it again.”
I took his hand and placed it on my belly where I felt her kick, just in time for her to stop.
“I don’t feel anything.”
“Ooh, did you feel that? She kicked when she heard your voice.”
He kissed me again, but the hand stayed on my stomach, where his daughter was wreaking havoc inside of me.
“She’s just like her mother, then. Although I don’t think that’s a foot. It feels like a tiny fist to me.”
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