Embracing Ellie: K&S Securities Series

by A. J. Andersen

  “Sure,” I say handing her a bag, “You must be Lizzie.” Her smile gets even bigger.

  “Yep,” she pops her P loudly, reminding me of Ellie doing the same thing earlier in the store and I return her smile. “What’s your name anyway?” Up close she’s a little taller than Ellie too. I’m categorizing the differences as I notice them and filing them away, still not able to put my finger on what exactly feels different about her.

  “Liz, this is my…” she hesitates, thinking about what to call me. We aren’t exactly friends, but I’d like us to be that and more. “My friend Blake.” She finishes. Friend is a good start. A perfect start.

  “Hi, Blake,” Lizzie sings out, skipping away from us swinging the bag I gave her.

  I hear Ellie’s long sigh in the darkness beside me as the front door slams shut. “I suppose I should tell you about Liz, so she doesn’t surprise you once we get inside.”

  “Something’s wrong?” I ask, knowing that it is even without her confirming it.

  “Lizzie was in a car accident two years ago. Her husband didn’t make it and we almost lost her and Auggie, her son, too.” Her tight voice gives away how little she likes talking about her family's tragedy.

  “Auggie was born by emergency C-Section while Liz was in a coma. We didn’t know if she would even wake up, and when she did, she didn’t remember that she had been married and pregnant. The part of her brain that was injured held all her more recent memories. Lizzie knows she is twenty-five, the same as me, but in her mind she’s fifteen.”

  Her words tumble out in a breathless rush and she finally looks up to meet my eyes. She looks worried, waiting for my reaction. Slowly I raise my hand and brush an escaped lock of hair behind her ear and gently cup her soft cheek. She leans into me for just a moment before stiffening her spine and slowly blinking her large doe eyes up at me. I want to say something comforting, but don’t know how or what would help.

  “We should get this stuff inside,” her voice is a trembly whisper.

  I nod, not wanting to frighten her with the feelings churning inside me, and turn back to the trunk, gathering up most of the bags and leaving only a couple light ones for her.

  “Can you close the trunk?” I ask, hoping to put her at ease. She smiles gratefully and does as I ask before motioning with her head toward the front door.

  “Let’s go inside. Auggie isn’t going to know what to make of you.” Her laughter is back, and I’m glad that we got past the painful moment.

  “Right behind you,” I say, and fuck am I glad that I am! Her light grey housekeeper’s dress and cardigan aren’t meant to be tempting, but I can’t help but appreciate how the fabric drapes lovingly over the curve of her hips and the hem brushes just at the top of her knees, showcasing her lean, strong calves and trim ankles.

  “Hola, Mama!” she calls out as she leads me through the front door and into a tidy, well-lived-in living room.

  “Hola, mija,” a sweet, lightly accented voice calls from somewhere out of sight.

  “Come on,” she urges, and I follow her into a large, sparkling clean kitchen. Already the pungent aroma of spices and cooking food fills the air. Lizzie is chattering rapidly in Spanish, but I’m not able to hear her clearly enough to use my high school Spanish classes to translate.

  “Mama, this is my friend from work, Blake,” she says, setting her bags on the floor by the table and motioning that I should do the same. I realize that I’ve never told her my last name. I probably should do that since it’s going to be hers someday, too.

  Dark brown eyes, the same rich shade as Ellie’s, lock on mine with laser focus and an enormous smile lights up her pretty face. Warmth expands inside my chest as she wipes her hands on a white kitchen towel and approaches me.

  “Welcome,” she says warmly, pulling me into her embrace and the oddest sensation of homecoming washes over me.

  “Mrs. Lovell, thank you for having me for dinner on such short notice.” I’m digging deep for my very best manners, wanting to make a good impression on this woman more than I ever have in my life.

  She hugs me tight again before letting me out of her motherly hug with a small pat of her hand on my forearm. “Any friend of Ellie’s is family, Blake,” she says kindly before returning to her place behind her large kitchen island and taking the lid off a pan releasing a cloud of fragrant steam into the room.

  “Lizzie, get Mr. …” she leaves it open since no one knows my last name.

  “It’s Stone, but please, you should call me Blake.”

  She inclines her head in agreement and it’s only then that I notice the silver strands woven into her dark, wavy bob. “Please call me Beatriz, or Mama if you would prefer.” My heart stops for a moment at the casual but sincere way she made her offer. No one since my own mother... Before I can form a response, she continues, “Lizzie, please get Blake something to drink and show him to a seat.”

  “Can I do something to help?” I ask, not wanting this woman to feel that I’m unwilling to lend a hand. She laughs merrily.

  “Of course not!” she sounds appalled that I would even suggest it.

  “Mama does things the old way.” Lizzie volunteers opening the refrigerator door. “Do you want a beer, Blake?” she asks peeking my way. I nod and she does too, reaching inside for a bottle and bringing it to me. “Thought so.”

  “I’m going to go change and find Auggie,” Ellie says, plucking at her work dress as Lizzie starts pulling groceries out of bags and putting them away.

  “Good idea, querida, it’s time that he wakes up from his nap.”

  “He was being a little brat, so we didn’t wake him up.” Lizzie says giggling.

  Ellie smiles weakly at me, “I’ll be right back.”

  I don’t mind sitting here with a beer in hand, listening to the happy chatter surrounding me. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life and I just want to absorb the good feeling. Is this what it’s like to have a family? A real one that belongs to you, as much as you belong to them. Twisting the top off the beer to hide the slight trembling of my fingers I take a pull of the cold beverage and let the feeling of peace flow over me.

  “Dat man, Mama?” a sleepy voice asks behind me. I turn slightly in my chair and there she is, in faded jeans with the tails of an old flannel shirt tied around her slender waist. A small boy is on her hip, his face pressed to her shoulder while big curious eyes examine me.

  “That’s Mama’s friend, Auggie. His name is Blake.” Lizzie sets down the bag she was emptying and hurries to her sister and lifts him into her own arms. He wiggles a little, reaching for Ellie, until she bends over and rustles through her remaining bags.

  “I brought you a present, Auggie.” Ellie tells him, her face reflecting her genuine happiness at giving him a gift. He giggles happily, no traces of the brat that Lizzie called him just minutes before, as she sets him in a booster chair at the table.

  Carrying one of the bags to the table, Ellie looks at her sister sternly, “I got something for you too, hermana, but first you need to finish putting the groceries away.”

  “Thank you, Ellie!” Lizzie enthuses, hurrying back to finish her task without argument while their mother smiles and rolls out what looks like homemade tortillas on a large wooden cutting board.

  “You’re welcome. Now hurry up so I can show you what I got you!” Ellie sounds almost as excited as her sister, and it occurs to me how she carefully recorded the cost of each item on her phone calculator. She even bought a brightly colored set of measuring cups for her mother, which she carefully sets on the counter for her inspection. I know she had money left, but she still didn’t buy anything for herself.

  “Oh, Elinor! These are so pretty. You are always so thoughtful.” Beatriz once again wipes her hands and this time it’s Ellie she wraps in a tight hug whispering words of praise and thanks into her daughter’s loose hair. It’s the first time I’ve seen it down, falling halfway down her back in a beautiful deep, rich brown waterfall with bright chestn
ut undertones blazing under the harsh light of the kitchen fixtures. Even with my poor Spanish I can hear the words love and good daughter before Ellie pushes back, her cheeks pink with pleasure and maybe a little embarrassment. Her eyes sparkle with happiness.

  “How you doing, Blake?” she asks me, deflecting everyone’s attention to me and away from her. I grin and take another sip of my beer.

  “I’m good.” More than good, to be honest. “Why don’t you give this little fellow his present?” I suggest, effectively moving the focus away from myself. She smiles, aware that I just played the same game that she did and reaches into the bag for the plastic tub of blocks, setting them on the table and pulling off the lid. Auggie claps his little hands excitedly.

  “Down you go,” she says, plucking him out of the chair and setting him on the floor before handing him the red tub. It’s promptly dumped on the floor with a clatter and the small boy cackles gleefully as he drops down and begins stacking them on top of each other.

  “Can I have mine now?" Lizzie asks eagerly, plopping down into the chair beside mine and resting her chin on her fist. She looks so much like her sister, even with the subtle differences, that it amazes me. Being near Lizzie doesn’t awaken the same jumble of feelings in me that her sister’s presence does. I’m sure that even blindfolded, I would be able to tell them apart just from the electric feeling I have when I’m near Ellie.

  Ellie’s smile is even bigger than it was before. Seeing her in her element is like seeing a whole different person than the one I’ve seen at Luminoso. This Ellie is sure of herself and her place in the world. I’d like to see her like this every day, at work included, and I’m going to figure out a way for that to happen. Seeing her interact with her family reinforces my belief that she’s a sweet woman who deserves nothing but the same happiness she seems to enjoy spreading.

  Pushing the bag across to her sister she watches as her twin reaches inside pulling out the lip-gloss and sparkly pink shirt with a gasp.

  “OMG Ells! I love it!” she jumps from her chair, scooting it across the tile floor with a loud squeak. “Be right back!” she squeals running from the room, presumably to change into her new top. Seconds later she’s back, and I was right, wearing the glittery shirt and an enormous smile on her freshly glossed lips.

  “Don’t you look pretty, mija?” Beatriz says indulgently as she lowers slices of boneless chicken into a sizzling cast iron pan.

  “What do you think, Blake?” Lizzie drags out my name in a way that I’m positive is meant to be flirtatious, but instead is just stinking cute. I’m already finding it easy to think of her as a child, even if that child is housed in the body of a beautiful adult woman.

  “You look cute, Lizzie.” I tell her. She giggles and looks away bashfully. I know that I said the right thing when Beatriz and Ellie both grace me with identical smiles. Ellie hurries to busy herself pulling dishes from a cabinet but Beatriz stares into my eyes for a long moment, taking my measure, before nodding her head like something was settled in her mind.

  “Blake, would you mind helping Auggie put his blocks in his room and to wash his hands for supper.” It’s gently worded decree and I know it. Rising from my seat I approach Auggie and squat down to his level. I don’t think I’ve talked to a child since I was one, and never one this small.

  “Hey buddy, gramma says it’s time to put these away and wash up. Can I help you?” Seems like a good idea to ask. He shyly nods and together we gather the plastic blocks and stack them in their container.

  When I stand so does Auggie, handing me the small tub and reaching up for my hand. I have to lean down uncomfortably for him to reach it, but when he can his small, chubby fingers grip mine and my chest tightens again. What is it about this family?

  “C’mon,” he says tugging until I follow. Ellie’s eyes meet mine as she sets the table and I shrug as best I can while bent over and wink, trying to act like all of this is an everyday occurrence for me instead of the life changer that it is. I know it’s too soon, but I also know that I need this woman, this family, to be mine. And something tells me that they need me too.

  The low murmur of Spanish voices follows us as we leave the room, punctuated by Lizzie’s high, girlish giggles.

  “Bedroom.” Auggie leads me through the living room and down a narrow hall with framed photos of Ellie and Lizzie at all stages of their lives. I pause a moment in front of what is clearly one of Lizzy’s wedding and my heart clenches with sadness. She is in a beautiful white dress holding hands with a tall, golden haired man in a tux. They wear matching expressions of adoration. Ellie is beside her sister; she isn’t quite as thin and there aren’t smudges of fatigue under her eyes. She looks young and carefree in a pale-yellow bridesmaid’s dress, blissfully unaware that just a few years later her whole life will change.

  There are pictures of Lizzie pregnant and some of Ellie and her sister together. I can see when the happy pictures ended, and more recent pictures were added. Ones where Lizzie is in bright, childish clothes and Ellie’s smile looks tired and forced. The photos paint a crystal-clear picture of the burden Ellie has shouldered to make sure that her family is taken care of. One that is even more clear when little Auggie points at a door with a glitter sign dangling on it that says LIZZIE. “Tia’s room,” he indicates the next room, “Nana’s.” I nod, he clearly doesn’t need me to say anything while he gives me the grand tour.

  With his little foot he nudges open the last door. It’s the master, still small, but bigger than the others. “Mine,” he says proudly, leading me to a bright blue toy box with his name painted on the lid. It’s not just his room. Across from his little red bed is a full-sized bed. The comforter is rumpled like it was hastily made by the occupant upon awakening and the sweet smell that I recognize as Ellie’s permeates the air around me.

  Putting the small tub of blocks on his bed Auggie stomps into the attached bathroom. “Help,” he says pointing at the sink and scrambling up onto a small stepstool and holding his hands under the faucet while waiting for me to turn on the tap. I do, absently helping him pump soap into his hands and scrubbing them together under the running water before drying them on a brightly colored towel hanging at just the right level for him to reach on his own.

  “K,” he grins up at me with his tiny white teeth, very proud of himself. “We go eat.” He reaches both hands up in a gesture that I take to mean that he wants me to carry him. I’ve never carried a kid before, but I remember how Ellie held him on her hip and lift him intending to imitate her. He squeals with excitement, clapping his hands.

  “He wants to go higher.” Ellie’s soft voice speaks from the doorway and I glance over at her hoping for further instruction. “Like this,” she crosses the room and holds out her hands for her nephew who practically jumps into her arms. They both laugh as she lifts him up over her head as high as she can reach.

  “Now you,” she directs, handing the squirming boy back to me. His light, grey-blue eyes lock with mine, they are striking against his golden skin and dark hair. He must have gotten them from his father since Ellie and Lizzie both have brown eyes.

  “Up,” he demands, his tone serious as he blinks at me. What can I do other than lift him up, and up, until he reaches his hand out and touches the ceiling? He starts laughing. It’s loud and infectious. I have a recollection of watching a fellow soldier being greeted by his family upon our return after a rough deployment. His wife openly weeping while he lifted his small son in his arms and swooped him into the air over and over while they both laughed joyfully. I imagine that what I’m feeling is similar in some small way.

  I want to make Ellie’s boy laugh like that, so I mimic what I saw that day and pretend to drop him before swinging him back up over my head. Ellie is laughing too, with her face tipped up, with all her attention locked on me. Her scrutiny makes me aware of my own smile in a way I never have been before as I gently lower the giggling toddler to his feet.

  “Again?” he pleads, looking first to me
and then to Ellie, his eyes bright with the promise of more adventure.

  “It’s time for supper, sweetie. Eat first, and if you finish your food you can play with Blake more before bedtime.” He bobs his head quickly, sending curls bouncing across his forehead before taking off at a run down the hall calling for his Tia and Nana in an animated voice.

  “Thanks for playing with him.” She says, her voice filled with affection, “I wasn’t sure how he was going to do with you being here. He’s not used to strangers.”

  I can’t stop my smile from returning full force. “I think he likes me.” A feeling of pride, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before, expands inside me. Of all the things I’ve accomplished, making friends with a toddler feels like the greatest triumph of my life so far. The only thing that can possibly trump the way I’m feeling right this instant will be knowing beyond a doubt that Ellie is mine.

  “He does,” she says, stepping forward and resting her slim hand on my wrist. It’s warm and softer than any hand I can recall. I carefully capture it with mine, holding her in place. I like having her in my personal space and don’t want her to move out of it. She smiles up at me again, emotions I can’t identify snapping in her eyes. I need to kiss her. I can’t wait another second to claim her pouty lips with mine.

  A soft tug is all it takes to pull her to my chest, the lush mounds of her breasts pressing against me through the layers of our clothes. A quiet gasp slips from her lips and our gazes crash together. I see the same want in her eyes that is coursing through my body, and I’m sure she can see it in mine as well. Carefully, not wanting to move too fast and break the spell surrounding us, I glide my hand up her arm and over her shoulder until I’m cupping the nape of her neck under the warm weight of her hair.

  “Blake,” My name is a whispered plea, tumbling past her parted lips.

  “Ellie,” I groan her name in response, my fingers tightening and drawing her even closer. One of her hands slips under my open flannel and settles on my side, her fingers curling into the fabric of my t-shirt. Her tongue peeks out, slicking over her lips as she waits.