Reunited: A Novella

by HELEN HARDT

  An ache grew in my tummy, my heart. I wanted to touch more of him. His bare skin. To feel his fingers slide over my own bare flesh. My skin heated, my pulse raced, and an inferno blazed between my legs.

  He pulled me closer, and his hardness pressed against my abdomen. His penis. I knew what it was. I’d had the sex ed class, the talk with my mother, the gossip with my friends.

  I’d never imagined how good it would feel against me, though. How much I’d desire to touch it, to make him feel good…

  Out of hand.

  This was getting out of hand.

  Yet I couldn’t break away. Couldn’t bring myself to withdraw my lips from the sweet firmness of his, the sweet sensation of his tongue twirling around my own…

  Somewhere in the background, the click of a key in a lock.

  Deb and Bruce were home!

  I pushed Brett away and wiped my mouth. I must look disheveled. This was not good. They didn’t care if I had people over. They’d come home to find me studying with friends before. But this…

  I whipped my hands to my lips. They felt tender, swollen. Oh, my. Did I look as though I’d just been kissed? Because I sure felt as though I’d just been kissed. Thoroughly, undoubtedly kissed.

  I patted down my clothes. Luckily they weren’t in disarray. Brett hadn’t attempted to feel me again. He looked amazing. Tousled and gorgeous.

  “Fix your hair!” I said through clenched teeth.

  He shook his head, and it fell into place.

  “Now sit down with the math book. Hurry.”

  I sat down next to him as the door opened.

  “Hi, Kathryn,” Deb said. “Studying on a Friday night?”

  “Tutoring, actually.” I tried to sound casual, but my voice shook. I hoped Deb and Bruce didn’t notice. “This is Brett. I’m helping him with his algebra.”

  “Need to get my grades up for baseball,” Brett offered.

  “Well, then, I see why you’re at it on a Friday,” Bruce said. “Sports was always my greatest motivation.” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and handed me some bills. “Here you go, Kathryn. Thanks very much.”

  “No problem. Terry’s never any trouble. She’s been sleeping soundly since bedtime.” I eyed the pizza carton on the coffee table. “Oh, let me just clean up a little.”

  “No worries,” Deb said. “I’ve got it. You two go on. Enough studying for one night. Maybe you can hit a late show somewhere.”

  “Oh, I don’t think—” I began.

  “Yeah, that’s a great idea, Kath,” Brett said. “How about it?”

  “I have studying.”

  “We’ve been studying all night.”

  I bit my swollen bottom lip. We hadn’t been studying all night, which was most likely painfully obvious to Deb and Bruce.

  “Should I walk you home?” Bruce asked.

  “I’ve got my car. I’ll take her home,” Brett said.

  “Brett, I live right down the street.”

  “So? Why walk when you can ride with me? Come on.”

  “Uh…okay. Thanks Deb and Bruce. See you tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I almost forgot,” Deb said. “Our plans fell through for tomorrow, so we don’t need you.” She winked. “Have a fun evening, Kathryn.”

  I wanted to expire on the spot. Yes, Deb and Bruce were cool. They probably wouldn’t care that I’d been making out with the Italian Stallion in their home. Hell, I’d found a stash of pot in the kitchen cupboards more than once, and Deb routinely left her vibrator out in the bathroom.

  Yet embarrassment overtook me. I was not Brett Falcone’s girlfriend. Would never be. I shouldn’t have been kissing him. Still, my body moving without benefit of my mind, I let him guide me out the door, down the driveway, to his Chevy parked on the street. I let him open the door. I slid in, sat on the fabric seat cushion, and inhaled. Pine. A tree-shaped air freshener dangled from the rearview mirror. Nice that he cared how his car smelled. Weird that I cared that he cared.

  He got in beside me and started the engine.

  “You won’t get in trouble for me being there, will you?”

  I snapped my mind out of its fog. “No. They don’t care.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want to cost you your babysitting job.” He laughed. “Then again, if you lost it, you could spend more time with me.”

  “With you?”

  “Tutoring me, I mean.”

  “Yeah. I know that’s what you meant.” But for a moment, a sheer second, I’d hoped he meant he wanted to spend time with me as a person, not as a tutor.

  I shook my head to clear it once again. What a fool I was.

  “This is where I live,” I said.

  “I know where you live.”

  “You do?”

  “An address isn’t that hard to find, Kath.”

  “Why do you call me Kath? No one does.”

  “So you said.” He cocked his head. “It fits you. How come everyone calls you Kathryn?”

  “My mom calls me Kathy.”

  “But no one else?”

  “No. I prefer Kathryn.”

  “You want me to call you Kathryn?”

  No! For some reason I couldn’t quite figure out, I wanted him to call me Kath and nothing else.

  I shook my head again. Damn spider webs were invading my brain.

  He parked the car in the street by my house. Without looking at him, I opened the door and left the car. I turned back, polite to a tee. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “No problem. I’ll walk you up.”

  “No. Please don’t. This isn’t a date.”

  “I didn’t say it was, but I want to walk you up.”

  Something in his voice made me relent. He walked me to the front porch and stood with me under the door.

  “Thanks for helping me out tonight,” he said.

  Could he tell my body had turned to jelly? My legs quivered. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you after school Monday in the usual classroom.”

  “How about tomorrow?”

  “I have my own homework to do tomorrow.”

  “You might need a break. We could get ice cream or something.”

  Okay, this was so not happening. Brett Falcone was not asking me out on a date. Especially not Brett Falcone who was going out with Michelle Bates.

  Damned if I didn’t want to have ice cream with him.

  “Okay. Pick me up at three. I’ll have my work done by then.”

  “You got it.” His smile lit up his face. He bent near me and brushed his lips lightly across mine.

  I jolted, and a fire ignited between my legs. Just a little peck and, oh God, I wanted more.

  “Good night, Kath.”

  “Good night.”

  I floated inside.

  7

  The phone clattered on the ceramic tile kitchen floor.

  “Kath?” Brett’s voice haunted me from the other room. “You all right in there?”

  Brett! What timing this Michael had. But I had to speak to him. Had to find out if he was truly the little boy I’d given away all those years ago.

  I willed my throat to relax, my voice to steady. “I’m fine. I have to take this call. I’ll just be a minute.”

  My shaky hand retrieved the phone.

  “I’m sorry,” I said into the mouthpiece. “You took me by surprise.”

  I walked from the kitchen past Brett, waving at him and mouthing “a patient,” stumbled into my bedroom, and shut the door behind me.

  “All right, Mr. Patton.”

  “Call me Michael.”

  “Of course. Call me Kathryn.”

  “I got your name from the agency. The records said that once I was eighteen, if I wanted to contact you, I could. I did a little research and found your married name. It was just a stroke of luck that you’re still living in the same city.”

  “When’s your birthday?”

  “January fourth.”

  Right date. Holy shit. “All right.” My stomach burned. My son. M
y beautiful, precious son.

  Brett’s son.

  Lord, now I’d have to tell Brett.

  If I wanted to start a relationship with him, I had to tell him anyway. A relationship built on a lie was no relationship at all. I’d hoped for a little more time. A little more time to get used to the idea, to get him used to the idea…

  “I know this is coming out of nowhere for you,” Michael said, “but I really do want to meet you. And I have a question to ask you.”

  “What?”

  “Well, the adoption papers don’t specify who my father was.”

  “No.” I hadn’t written it down. Hadn’t wanted Brett to ever know. Had wanted him to play baseball, to have the life he deserved.

  “You…do know who he was, right?”

  “Yes. He was…is…a fine man.”

  “Oh, good. I just didn’t want to be the product of a rape or anything.”

  “Oh, no. Nothing like that. I loved your father. I was just young, and he was…engaged to someone else.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  “I wish I could have kept you. I do, Michael. But I was eighteen, and I had a scholarship.”

  “It’s okay. My mom and dad are great, and I have two sisters.”

  “You have another sister. Maya, my daughter, is four.”

  “Oh?”

  “And…three other sisters. Your father… He has three daughters.”

  “So you still keep in contact with him?”

  “I…recently renewed contact, yes.”

  “I don’t want to push you, but can we meet? I’ve just always wondered what you look like. Where my nose comes from, things like that.”

  “I suppose.” My nerves skittered.

  “And my father? Could I meet him?”

  “Oh, God.” I sighed. “Michael…”

  “He doesn’t know about me, does he?”

  “No. I’m so sorry. He just came back into my life.”

  “Aren’t you going to tell him?”

  “Yes. I just need to find the right time.”

  “I understand. Until you find the right time, maybe you and I can meet.”

  I smiled into the phone. “I’d like that. I truly would. You probably won’t believe this, but I’ve missed you all these years. A day has not gone by that I haven’t thought of you. I always hoped I’d made the right decision.”

  “You did. I have a great life.”

  Relief swept through me. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.” I grabbed a pad of paper from my bureau. “I wish I could talk longer, but I need to go. I have company. Could you give me your number? I’ll call you.”

  “Okay.”

  I hastily scribbled down the name and number on the pad. “I’m so glad to hear from you, Michael. You have no idea.”

  “Good. I’m glad I didn’t disrupt your life.”

  “Oh, no. You couldn’t. I’m so happy you’ve had a good life, and I do want to know you. I’ll call you. Or you can call me anytime, okay?”

  “Thank you…Kathryn. I appreciate it.”

  “Bye now.”

  “Bye.”

  I drew in a deep breath. Brett.

  Brett was in the other room and had no idea he had a son.

  I’d never told him. Had I made the wrong decision? Would he understand my reasoning? Or would he be angry?

  Oh, God, he’d be angry…

  I wanted to be with him. Wanted to make love with him again. Wanted all the passion and excitement I’d given up twenty years ago. The passion and excitement I’d never felt with another man in all this time.

  We still had a dinner date. Maybe I could tell him in a public place, where he wouldn’t have a fit…

  What if he hated me? I couldn’t bear the thought. What if he walked away? Forever? When I’d just found him again?

  I clutched the phone in my hand as my eyes misted. I walked numbly out of the bedroom.

  “You okay?” Brett came toward me. “You look a little off.”

  I sniffled. “A patient. He’s okay though. It’s just hard sometimes.”

  “I bet it is. You’re such a caring person. You must hurt when they hurt.”

  If he only knew. “Yes. It’s difficult. A doctor is supposed to keep a professional distance.”

  “How can you? They’re people. People you get to know.”

  “Yes, they are.” I smiled. “You get it.”

  “Of course, I get it. I get you, Kath. I always have.”

  Yes, he always had.

  “Ready for dinner?”

  I nodded and grabbed my jacket. We drove, holding hands and not talking, to a small Italian place that someone in the Falcone family owned. I joked with Brett about being related to half of Columbus. Seemed like all the central Ohio Italians were bound by blood in one way or another. But the Falcones were never a mafia family, Brett maintained, despite the rumors.

  I remembered those rumors. Those rumors that had nearly cost Brett his life. And me mine.

  Twenty years earlier

  I hadn’t laughed so much in ages. Turned out we both loved chocolate—the richer, thicker, and darker the better.

  I followed Brett outside the door of the ice cream shop.

  He turned and drew me near, and I gasped as he brushed his lips and tongue over the corner of my lips.

  “A little chocolate,” he said, smiling.

  Anyone could have seen us. The ice cream shop was a popular hangout. No one from school had been there today, true, but still. I couldn’t believe he’d done such a thing.

  What would Michelle think?

  Well, if Brett didn’t care what Michelle thought, why should I? I wouldn’t go out of my way to kiss him, but if he kissed me? Why fight it?

  I wanted to kiss him. Had never imagined such an intimate feeling as his lips on mine. Couldn’t wait to start kissing him more. To kiss other men more. I’d be the kissing queen!

  “Let’s walk behind the mall, in the alley,” Brett said.

  “Why?”

  “So I can hold your hand, kiss you.”

  “Why do you want to hold my hand and kiss me?” I had to know.

  “Because I want to. It feels nice. Doesn’t it feel nice to you?”

  “But Michelle—”

  “Michelle’s not here.”

  “You’re not breaking up with her, are you?”

  “I haven’t really thought about it. We’re not married. I’m not being unfaithful.”

  “I think you are. I think you and she have an understanding.”

  “Maybe she has an understanding. I don’t.”

  “She thinks she’s marrying you, remember?”

  “I might. I might not. Right now, I don’t want to think about Michelle. I want to walk with you in the alley. I want to hold your hand. I want to put my arms around you and kiss you.”

  “Wow.” The word came out in a breathy rasp. The Italian Stallion a romantic?

  He took my hand and tugged me along. “Come on.”

  We walked behind the mini mall into the back alley that was deserted and a little scary. But no fear seized me. Brett was big and strong and would protect me.

  He held my hand, and then, when I least expected it, pushed me against the back of a store building and crushed his mouth to mine.

  My lips tingled, and my heart raced. The kiss consumed me, became me. Nothing existed in the world except Brett and me and the mating of our mouths.

  Until—

  I jerked when the stark chill of a blade slid against the warm flesh of my neck.

  “Nice piece of ass, Falcone. Care to share?”

  The voice slithered over me like snake venom. Two muscled thugs pulled Brett from me while the third pressed the cool steel into my flesh. My heart stampeded as fear pulsed into me.

  “What the hell do you guys want?” Brett demanded.

  “The same as always, Falcone. You know what we’re after.”

  “And I’ve told you before. You’ve got the wrong Falcone. I�
�m Julian Falcone’s son. You’re looking for Angelo Falcone’s son. No relation.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “No lie.”

  He glanced at me. I swallowed audibly.

  “At least let her go.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “She’s a Zurakowsky. No relation to the Family, honest.”

  I closed my eyes and prayed. What a time for him to bring up my Polish name. But if it worked, so help me, I’d give thanks the rest of my days for being the brunt of Pollock jokes.

  “We have a message for your old man,” the man holding the knife to me said.

  “His old man is home in bed,” I said, shaking. “He’s a construction worker, for God’s sake. A construction worker on disability.”

  One of them punched Brett in the stomach. He doubled over with an oof.

  I cringed but held still, ever aware of the blade still scraping against my neck.

  “Let her go, man,” Brett huffed. “Please.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without you,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “It’s not worth it, Kath.” His voice was raspy, breathless.

  “I’m not leaving you!” The exclamation stretched my vocal cords and the blade pressed farther into my skin.

  “You harm a hair on her head and I’ll see all of you dead,” Brett seethed.

  My heart pounded, and my stomach churned. Yet a little bit of joy surged through me at Brett’s protection.

  “You give your old man our message, Falcone.”

  “Fine. I’ll give it to him. But I swear to God you’ve got the wrong man.”

  “Give him this.” The thug to Brett’s right clocked him in the jaw. Not a pop, like I’d heard in movies. The punch hit Brett’s face with a dull thud.

  The thud rang in my head.

  “Next time, we hurt the girl,” he said.

  The two let Brett go and he fell into a heap. The other pressed the blade into my flesh once more, removed it, and fled. I rushed to Brett and knelt beside him.

  “My God. Are you all right?”

  “I’ll live,” he said breathlessly.

  “Can you get up? Come on, I’ll help you.”

  “I’m fine. This isn’t the first time those bozos have mistaken me for the wrong Falcone.”

  “What can you expect from morons?” I helped him stand. “Come on. We’ll go to my house and get you cleaned up. My parents are out for the day and won’t be home until after ten.”