Eternally Yours: Bliss Series, Book Six

by Hall, Deanndra

Place to live with a room for her

  Furniture

  Clothes

  Shoes

  Food

  Access to education

  Money/job

  Bacchus in jail permanently

  Reagan and Terry’s approval

  Dr. Lawrence’s approval

  Social worker’s approval

  Car and license

  I knew it was coming. “Lucien? Could she stay here with me?”

  I’ve been thinking about this the whole time. Matter of fact, it was hard for me to come up with contributions to the list because that was taking up all my thoughts. “Let’s see where this thing between us goes. We’ve got a while. They won’t let her come back until Bacchus is sentenced, and we both know it. In the meantime, we can start with some of this. You can get your license. You can get your GED too―that would go a long way with the court.”

  “Do you think I could get a job?” she asks, her eyes bright.

  “Actually, based on what I saw, if you keep going over and helping, I think Brian might hire you to help Cirilla with the office-type stuff.”

  “You think so? Oh, my god, that would be great!”

  “And if he doesn’t feel he could do that, Boone might be able to put you to work in one of his stores, or Melina might be able to get you on at the adult store. And Steffen might have something at the bank too.”

  She sits there for a moment, silent, until she finally looks at me and says, “Lucien, you changed my life the day you came into it. No matter what happens, I’ll always be thankful for the hope you’ve given me.”

  Over my lifetime, I’ve been told a lot of times that I’ve done something right. Nothing I’ve done―nothing―has ever made me feel prouder than I do in this very instant. My heart swells with gratitude, thankful that Brian recommended me to Ted, thankful that Ted saw in me something that would help her, and thankful that she trusts me. She trusts me. I hear that ring in my head. Letting her down is not an option.

  We end our little brainstorming session with a decision that on Monday, we’ll work on getting a copy of her birth certificate and then getting her a permit to learn to drive. I’m also going to dig around to see where she can go for brush-up classes that will prepare her for the GED exam. We’re doing something. It might be slow progress, but it’s progress.

  Brian calls and invites us to their house―he’s grilling―and we go and have a good time. By ten, we’re on the sofa, cuddled up and eating popcorn while we watch some horrible old sci-fi movie. When it’s over, she sits up, stretches, and then leans back against me again. “You know, you’re a pretty good pillow, sir,” she says, then makes like she’s plumping up my midsection.

  “Well, thank you very much! I don’t think anybody’s ever said that to me before. Can’t imagine that they would,” I say, chuckling.

  “Will the GED test be hard?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “What about the driving test?”

  “Don’t know about that either. I got my license in France, but when I came to the states, I had to get a U.S. one. Problem is, that was California. So I really don’t know about here.”

  After pondering all that for a minute or so, she asks, “Would you mind if I got one of my coloring books, sir?”

  “Of course not. I’ll get a book to read and we can sit here together.”

  “Thanks.” I watch as she scampers off toward her little art room and think about how happy she seems. And she does seem happy.

  Occasionally as she colors, I sneak a glance. She’s very good at what she’s doing, very astute at choosing colors that will work well together. I know it’s simple coloring, but she does good work, and I think about how she might fare in a real art class.

  “All finished,” she announces and turns the page to me. It’s a picture of fairies, and they’re sweet, muted colors that make them look like woodland nymphs. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s beautiful. You’ve done a very good job. Do you want to tear it out and put it on the fridge?”

  “I’m not six, sir,” she says with a scowl.

  “I know. But I think it’s pretty. Maybe we could frame it.”

  “Maybe we could wait until I do something that’s actually my own work and frame that,” she says, but she’s not scowling. She’s serious, based on the set of her lips and the softness in her eyes.

  “Yes. Let’s do that. You paint or draw something beautiful and we’ll have it framed.”

  When we settle into bed for the night, she whispers, “Do you want sex, sir?”

  “No. I want to sleep. I’m exhausted from last night. I’m not young anymore, Rayanna.”

  “You’re not old!” she almost yells.

  “I’m forty-seven.”

  “That’s not old.”

  I just laugh. “It’s not young!”

  Out of the blue, she asks, “Will you keep the little lines in your hair when you get older?”

  “I have no idea. Hadn’t thought about it.”

  “Just wondered. I love it. It’s very sexy.” Then she rolls to face me, presses an arm across my stomach, and looks up at me, her chin resting on my breastbone. “But I love you more.”

  “I love you, Precious. Let’s get some sleep, okay?”

  “Yes, sir.” Those are the last words I hear before we drift off to sleep.

  * * *

  Sunday is fun. Boone and Melina invite us over to their house. The place is enormous, and the pool is beautiful. Rayanna didn’t have a suit, but Boone said to go to his local store and ask for a woman named Larissa who’s a personal shopper. He assured me she could help Rayanna find a suit that would fit correctly, and she did. What follows is probably the most fun we’ve had since we’ve been together.

  But now it’s Monday morning and I’m tangling with the state office of vital records, trying to find out what it will take to get a copy of her birth certificate. I can hear her on the phone in the other room. When I hang up, I wait until she’s finished. “Any progress?”

  “No. I have to have proof of identification for a learner’s permit, but I’m not sure how I’m supposed to get that. And I just realized I don’t know my Social Security number.”

  “So, basically, this all hinges on your birth certificate. They said we can pick up a form at the court house or do it online. We should probably get to that.”

  Thirty minutes later, the birth certificate is ordered, I’ve printed off a copy of the permit application to help her fill it out, and I’m trying to find out where the nearest Social Security office is. I also help her set up an email account so the GED prep class coordinator can reach her. I’m not sure we’ll get all her information in time for this round of classes, but at least she’ll be ready if her documents come in. “Hey, I almost feel like a real person!” she quips.

  That makes me sad, and I think of all the marginalized people out there, millions and millions of them, with no one to advocate for them. “You are a real person, Precious. At least you are to me.”

  “Try living in a shelter sometime and see how people look at you. It’s not nice.” As she says this, she doesn’t look at me, and I can see the wounded expression on her face. “Less than a person. Just a, a, a thing.”

  “Not anymore. We’re going to get this all together and you can be proud of all you’ve accomplished, I promise.” My hand lands lightly on the top of her head and she smiles, still not looking my way. “And I’m proud of you regardless. You’re an exceptional person, babe.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Cutting her eyes toward me, she says, “You’re an exceptional person too.”

  “Thank you. This exceptional person is getting hungry, and I’ve got an appointment this afternoon. But I’ve got to go to Brian and Cirilla’s first. Want to go with me and help out over there while I’m gone?”

  “Yes! Please! I love being there. Their house is so beautiful. So is Boone and Melina’s. They all have such nice houses. Why don’t you have a house, sir?�
��

  “Because when you came here, I’d only been in this apartment for about a week. It was a hurried-up kind of thing. I was trying to get moved so I could start work with Brian. And I’m starting to get some big bonus checks, so I may go looking for something.”

  “That would be fun! I could help you! We could find you the perfect house.” Of note is the absence of the word “us.” I don’t know if I should be frightened or relieved by that.

  “I bet we could. You’d be a lot of help. We can pick up one of those catalogs of homes at a restaurant somewhere and start going through it. Maybe we can find something pretty quick.” The smile she shoots me lets me know she’s excited about the idea of looking. And I want her input. If I have a say, she’ll be living there with me.

  It only takes us about forty-five minutes to have lunch and when I walk into Brian’s house, I can hear him from down the hallway. “Did you get that key from Keiser?”

  “Yes, Sir. It’s on the key board over there. Pink hanging tag.”

  “I don’t see it.”

  I hear footsteps and then Cirilla says, “Right there. If it had been a snake, it would’ve bitten you.”

  “Blah, blah, blah. Always picking on me.” That’s followed by the smack sound of a kiss.

  “You guys cut it out,” I call out as Rayanna drops her purse on a chair.

  “Hey! I’ve got your stuff all ready,” Brian answers.

  I hear a feminine chuckle. “You mean I’ve got his stuff all ready.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. The stuff’s ready. Hi, Rayanna!” he says as he steps out into the hallway. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

  “Is it okay, sir? I mean, I didn’t ask, and if you’d rather―”

  “Nonsense. I just meant it’s a pleasant surprise to see you, that’s all. You’re always welcome here,” he says and gives her a big hug. She seems a little startled, but then she smiles and wraps her arms around his neck.

  “Rayanna! I’m so glad you’re here!” Cirilla sings out as she greets us. “It’s good to see you!”

  “Thanks. Lucien asked if I wanted to come. I love being here. You’ve always been so kind to me,” she says. There’s that word again―kind. Few of us use it often, but when you’ve been treated unkindly all your life, I guess it would be a very important word.

  Cirilla pulls back from the kiss she’s given Rayanna on the cheek and smiles at her. “I’d love to go do something fun, but I’ve got some work I have to do. Want to sit and talk while I work?”

  This little hopeful glimmer flashes in Rayanna’s eyes. “Could I help? Surely there’s something I could do to help you. I don’t mind, really. I’d rather do that than be a bother.”

  The compassion I see on my sister-in-law’s face warms my heart. “You’re never a bother! I love having you here! And sure, I bet there’s something you could do. Let’s go find out, let the boys talk, whaddya say?”

  “Sure!” I watch as they disappear down the short hallway, chattering and laughing.

  “So here’s the info. Blakemore Pharmaceuticals, one of the largest in the nation. They need production space. And listen to me,” Brian says, his eyes piercing. “This is a twenty-million-dollar property. If you can land this one, I’m giving you sixty percent of the finder’s fee as a bonus and the company will take forty.”

  “Oh, Brian, that’s way too generous,” I tell him, aghast. That’s a lot of money, plenty enough to start looking for a house, especially with what I’ve already banked.

  “Nonsense. What’s left of the finder’s fee will pay for operating expenses for the next year. Matter of fact, I’m seriously thinking of renting or buying office space. How would you feel about that?”

  “Honestly? To have a dedicated office space would be great. My apartment really isn’t big enough for me to do much, and even if I started looking today, it would be a couple of months before I could move.”

  “Great. I’ll start looking. I’m thinking just a small support staff reception area and two offices. Doesn’t have to be huge. Maybe not downtown―maybe in a strip mall in an up-and-coming area.” I can see the gears turning in his head, and I know he’s already got a couple of spots in mind. “By the way, Derek Hodges? Your poster boy for difficult clients?” Yeah―the guy who doesn’t like anything. “He called about ten minutes ago. He wants that last property you showed him.”

  I’m dumbstruck. All I manage to say is, “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. Wants to seal the deal tomorrow if you’ve got time.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll make time. In the meantime, I’ve got to see if I can close this deal. Wish me luck,” I say as I head to the door.

  “No luck necessary. You’re good at this, Lucien. Very good. Offering you a position was one of the smartest things I’ve ever done.”

  I turn and grin. “And how will you be spending the afternoon?”

  “Me? I’ve got two properties to scope out and a third one to show to a client. You’re not the only one working, little brother,” he says and laughs.

  “And Trish and Sheila?”

  “Trish is the one who found the three properties I’m dealing with today. And Sheila was the one who found this building for Blakemore. It’s all Cirilla can do to keep up with all four of us!”

  “Catch up with you later then,” I say as I close the door behind me. Cirilla’s got her hands full.

  Wonder if she could use some help?

  * * *

  I make the call while I’m driving back to Brian and Cirilla’s house. When I get there, Rayanna’s laughing from the office. “And then his hat fell off and everything went to shit!”

  “Oh my god, that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!” Cirilla’s shrieking, and I can tell that, whatever it is, she’s not having to lie about it being funny.

  They’re laughing so hard they can’t hear me when I wander down the hallway and stick my head in. “What are you two up to?”

  “Oh! God! Sir, you scared me!” Rayanna says, eyes wide but still laughing. “When did you get here?”

  “Just now.”

  “How’d it go?” Cirilla asks.

  “I got this,” I answer and plop the paper down on the desk.

  “What’s that?”

  “Something I read about on the internet and decided to try it. And it worked. It’s called an ‘intention to lease,’ and it holds the property for ten days, with the understanding that if they don’t take it, they pay a penalty.” I grin. “And they signed it without blinking, so I think they want that property.”

  “Brian said it’s a twenty-million-dollar deal,” Cirilla whispers, and I watch Rayanna’s jaw drop.

  “Yep. It is. So, did you have a good afternoon?” I ask, turning my attention to Rayanna.

  “Yes, sir, I did. I helped Cirilla,” she announces with a smile.

  “She did. She’s not kidding. She got all my filing done, helped me collate some packets, and even learned to print documents from the computer. We got a lot done, enough that I just might be able to sit down and watch a TV show tonight with my Master without having to feel guilty that I’m not working,” Cirilla says. “How are you guys doing?”

  “We’re doing very well. Don’t you think so, babe?”

  Rayanna nods. “Yes, sir. When my birth certificate comes, I’ll be able to get my learner’s permit and start working on my GED.”

  Cirilla claps her hands and grins. “That’s awesome!”

  “Yeah, I think so. I’m excited. A driver’s license!”

  The look on her face takes my breath away, her eyes lit up and her cheeks pushed upward in a huge smile. She’s happy, and she’s excited about her life. A little voice whispers to me, You’ve done that, Lucien. In a very short time you’ve made a huge difference in her life. I wish there was some way to let her know how much of a difference she’s made in mine. And then I realize―there is.

  But I’ve got to plan carefully. I can’t screw this up. If I do it right, she’ll know exactly wh
ere I’m coming from and where she belongs in my life.

  * * *

  Tuesday and Wednesday are excellent days. On Tuesday, while I go out, she stays at the apartment and works on her art. When I get back, she’s doing something with papier-mâché and an egg. Don’t ask―I have no idea, and I don’t question her. So far, everything she’s done is beautiful, so I trust she knows what she’s doing, although I’m betting egg mixed with papier-mâché would be the devil to clean up.

  That evening we sit down and actually talk about sex, really talk. We discuss what we like, what we don’t like, what we expect. I think she’s surprised to see that we’re really not all that different. And that’s good, especially because of what I’m planning.

  On Wednesday she has her appointment with Ted. The first thing he asks as soon as we sit down is, “Did you speak to Carly this past week?”

  We specifically haven’t talked about it since Saturday because I didn’t want her to spend all her time crying. “Yes. Saturday morning,” I answer, and I see her eyes redden.

  “How was it? How did she sound? Did you have a good talk?”

  I sit beside her and listen as she tells Ted what was said in the phone call and how she never wanted to hang up. A simple thing, a phone call, and one that most of us take for granted, and yet she approached it with near-reverence. “And then … and then …” She falters and I reach over to squeeze her hand. “And then she asked me when I was coming to get her,” she finishes in a whisper as the tears start to fall.

  I think it’s time for me to defuse the situation a bit. “We sat down and made a list of the things we think will have to happen or things she’ll need before Carly can come home.”

  “Would you like to see it?” she asks, still sobbing, and pulls it from her purse.

  “Sure. Let’s see,” Ted says as he takes it from her and unfolds it. I watch as he silently mouths the items. When he’s finished, he smiles. “Looks like you really thought about this.”

  “Master Lucien helped me.”

  “Tell him what we did Monday, babe.” She gives me a funny look. “You know …”