| Subject: Chapter 24 (long and a little racy) |
Author:
Kate
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Date Posted: 18:59:17 04/01/01 Sun
In reply to:
by Kate
's message, "Things My Mother Taught Me" on 19:49:51 03/29/01 Thu
****************
May God spare anyone who has a hand in his own death.
Elena and Ian came home late. The house was dark and quiet; Indira had left the little light on over the kitchen sink. "Kids must be in bed," Ian said.
"Mmmm." Elena spotted Andy's briefcases on the floor and sighed. "He'll forget these yet," she grumbled, reaching for them.
"Lee, leave ‘em. He's got to learn to pick up after himself."
"If he's not learned by now, there's little chance he will," Elena grinned. "Go on up, I'll be in bed in a minute. I just need to check and make sure he got all his clothes washed."
Ian kissed his wife and held her close for a minute. "The ballet was nice," he lied.
Elena grinned and craned her neck upward. She thought about saying how grateful she was that he hadn't snored quite as loudly this time as he had the time before, but instead, she just said, "I love you, Ian."
"Love you too, Lee." He swatted her lightly on the backside. "Hurry up and come upstairs." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Elena laughed.
She was still smiling when she went to the laundry room. Someone -- Indira, probably -- had neatly folded Andy's clothes in his laundry basket. His suitcase stood nearby. It looked as if he'd packed it, then just left it there. She peeked in the washer and saw a lot of wet clothes still left. Elena sighed, put them in the dryer, and started upstairs.
The briefcases still were in the corner. Andy would forget them, she just knew he would. Elena picked up one -- it weighed a ton -- and put it in Andy's chair. He'd see it when he ate breakfast in the morning. When she reached for the other, it tipped over and paper skittered across the floor.
She sighed again, stooping to pick up the papers, when a name caught her eye.
Nikita Samuelle.
Elena froze, then, very carefully, she picked up the papers, lay them on the table, and scanned them. Her eye snagged on a familiar signature on a hospital release form dated a few months before.
Michael Samuelle.
Elena's stomach suddenly cramped and she sat down in a chair. She blinked a couple of times, willing her vision to clear, and when she could finally read without the words dancing in front of her eyes, she went through every piece of paper in both briefcases.
Michael is alive.
Elena looked around the room frantically. Same old kitchen table, scarred from years of abuse from her children, same tiled kitchen floor where Andy had broken innumerable dishes, same wallpaper she had picked out after a minor explosion of Andy's resulted in an impromptu renovation, same refrigerator that had held years and years of Sam's drawings and Indy's dance schedules. Same curtains that Indira used for playing Scarlett O'Hara when she was eight.
In the room beyond, she could see the shadowy shape of the couch where she and Ian had made love when the children were asleep. The Persian carpet, where Sam had spilled grape juice and where numerous dogs over the years had relieved themselves. Sorry, Mum. I'll clean it up.
All the same. And all different. Because now she was afraid it was going to be taken away from her.
No. I won't allow it. It's my life. And Ian's. And I won't let anyone, not even Michael, take it away from me.
Elena shut her eyes.
"Lee? Honey? Come up to bed," her husband called softly from upstairs.
Elena gasped and shuffled all the papers back into the briefcase. Andy would never notice they were out of order. "Coming, Ian," she called up.
Elena quickly checked all the doors and windows and set the alarm -- something she normally didn't do when Andy was home, since he usually inadvertently set it off. Then she took a deep breath and walked quietly upstairs.
Her husband looked up from the book he was reading. He was a huge, blond man. In another time might have been a Viking warrior, he was that big. He and Andy were not fat, they were just ... solid. Ian was head and shoulders above any other man she'd ever met. His size scared her at first, he was just so tall and so immovable, and, like Andy, "too big to be allowed." But he was gentle and funny and hers and she loved him.
"Lee? Is something the matter?" Ian put his bookmark in place and frowned at her in concern.
"No ... nothing."
"Sure?"
Elena took off her dress and hung it up, slipped out of her shoes and put her earrings away. Her hands were shaking with anger and she felt as if she were going to burst into tears.
"Lee? Honey?"
She pulled on her nightgown and got into bed. Ian flipped off the light, then Elena sat up again. "I love you, Ian. More than anything."
Ian reached over a massive hand and hauled her over next to him, then rolled her on top of him. Elena put her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his hips. "I love you so much."
"Mmmm." Ian's huge gentle hand moved slowly up her back. "You're just saying that so I'll go to the ballet next month."
"I don't care if you never go with me again," Elena said sincerely.
"Ah, you say that now ..." His hand moved under the hem of her gown and she felt warm skin on hers.
"Although," Elena said thoughtfully, warming under his touch, "There is something incredibly appealing about a man who will go to such lengths to keep his wife happy."
"Appealing, eh?"
"Ian ..." Elena felt her panic and anger ebbing, replaced with a warm glow. Had she ever felt this way with Michael? She really couldn't remember. She'd been so young and he'd been so ... stoic. Calm, cool, collected, that was Michael. At the time, they'd been perfect for each other: she needed direction and he needed someone to take care of. She'd even thought she loved him, but when she met Ian she realized she and Michael had been missing something important. There was a spark she felt with Ian that she'd never felt with Michael. Ian was firecrackers and fun and passion. And Ian was ... unique. Hers. Where Michael was all cool sensibility, Ian was ...
"What would you think about having another baby?"
"What?!" Elena jerked up and looked down at her husband's lazy smile.
"Just joking. Wanted to be sure you were paying attention."
Elena laughed. "I'm too old for babies. Maybe grandbabies, but not my own. How about a dog, instead?"
"Nah. Throws up on the carpet. Pees on everything."
"So do babies." Elena took off her gown and Ian's huge hands settled on her hips.
Ian said softly, "Remember the first time we made love? I was sure I was going to break you."
Elena looked down at him and smiled. "Ha. You teased me and teased me so much that you could have done anything to me and I would have been so wild to have you, nothing would've hurt..." She ran a finger down his nose and to his mouth, and he kissed it, then lifted her a bit and resettled her.
"You're more beautiful now than you were then," he said softly.
"I'm 20 pounds heavier ..." Elena said, clutching his shoulders as he moved subtly. Gentle. Familiar. Hers.
"I love every pound." He kissed her, a sweet, gentle kiss that made Elena shudder with pleasure. "Elena ... Lee ..." he crooned, and Elena, feeling loved and warm and certain that this man was the only one for her, no matter who might come back from the dead, surrendered willingly.
Later, Elena curled around her husband. He was quietly snoring, a comforting sound she'd grown used to in 20 years. Like a train that passes a house every night, she thought sleepily. How could I ever get to sleep without him?
Ian turned over, one arm draping over Elena. It was like having an extra blanket thrown over her, and she snuggled closer, hugging his arm. In the moonlight, the heavy diamond he'd given her for their engagement sparkled in the moonlight. Under it was a thin band studded with diamonds that he'd given her for their tenth anniversary. So many more years than she'd been with Michael. Happy years.
I'm not giving him up. No matter what.
***********************
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