Chapter 26 #2
He ducked his head under the water, then came back up, pushing his dripping wet hair out of his eyes. “I saw it. Very green. Very shiny.”
And that was our evening. Joking around and teasing each other.
Talking about light subjects. Nothing heavy.
Nothing that happened in the past. I flirted; he flirted back.
We laughed until we cried. He threaded his fingers through mine.
I stopped talking, so did he. He sat on a ledge in the hot spring and pulled me onto his lap.
I linked my arms around his shoulders, as I’d done for so many years.
I leaned in because I could not help myself.
He’s like a magnet. A steaming-hot, seductive magnet.
I placed my lips on his and might have made some sort of groan.
It didn’t take but a second for Logan to handle things from there, maneuvering my legs so that I straddled him as we had ourselves a good ol’ kissing session that quickly got out of control. My bra came off, and he tossed it to shore—not that I cared. His chest was warm against mine, the water hot.
“I missed you so much, Bellini,” he whispered between kisses.
I teared up, couldn’t help it. “I missed you, too, Logan.” I have missed you every single day, I wanted to say, but I couldn’t. Tears slipped down my cheeks, and he paused to kiss each one, and I saw that his eyes had tears in them, too, and that broke my heart all over again.
As my new panties were about to join my bra, I stopped him. “I can’t. We can’t.”
“Okay.” His arms wrapped around me, and he kissed me again. “Damn,” he whispered.
I thought I would drown in passion.
And pain.
So much pain.
He didn’t know why I broke up with him, and I could never tell him the truth. I knew what he would choose to do, but the loss would be heart-wrenching for him.
I kissed him, and things blew up yet again, and I pulled away because I couldn’t hurt him like that and make love and walk away again. No, making love was not something we should do. It would make my leaving more shattering than it was already going to be.
“We need to go before I get naughty, and then Santa won’t buy me any gifts,” I gasped out.
“I’ll buy you gifts,” he murmured against my mouth. “Whatever you want.”
“I want…” I sighed and groaned.
“What do you want?”
I want to make love to you again. Three times. Tonight. Then start over tomorrow. But I couldn’t say that. We stared at each other, and he knew. He totally knew.
But we couldn’t. Shouldn’t. I could not believe my restraint, but I gathered my lusty, throbbing self together and pulled away.
I stood up in the hot spring and climbed out.
Then I ingloriously slipped and fell back into the water, butt first, all the way under, and he caught me, and we laughed again so hard we cried.
And that was Logan and me—seriously happy together and seriously passionate.
We dried off the best we could, using our socks, got dressed, and drove back to town, holding hands and talking. He kissed me long and hard when he dropped me off at my truck. I was shaking from that kiss in a sex-denied type of way when he shut my door. He winked at me.
Love and lust are a potent mix.
I don’t know very much about my father.
I don’t think my mother does either.
She was thirty-four years old when she met him. She had owned Lady Whiskey’s for ten years. She told me that a man walked into the bar who took her breath away. “I could hardly breathe when we talked. It’s a wonder he didn’t have to perform CPR on me!”
His name was Curtis. She couldn’t remember his last name. Or so she said.
“He was well over six feet of rock-hard muscle, with a sweet and come-hither smile and a high dose of intelligence. He was one of the smartest people I have ever met, but he wasn’t showy about it at all.
And he was funny. He made me laugh like no one else could.
I lost my head, sweet child. We had a fling and made you.
We were a little careless, and I’m so glad we were, darling daughter.
It was the best three weeks of my life, but he had to go home to Seattle. ”
“Why?”
“His mother was ill, and he loved his mom. She was a rebel when she was young, pushing for women’s rights for decades.
Sounded like a real ball banger, which I admired.
Curtis was taking care of her in his home.
His brother flew in to take care of their mom in Curtis’ home so he could have a break and go on a biking trip.
Curtis loved to bike, to be outside, to meet people.
He had to go back when the trip was over. His work was there. My work is here.”
“Did you love him?”
“Yes, baby, I think I did.”
“Did he love you?”
“He said he did, but we were too different.” She blinked several times, then sighed, then gave me a smile that said she was going to be strong, but I could still see the pain.
“I wasn’t looking for a husband. You know that I was married before.
Once at nineteen, way too young, divorced at twenty because he was a boor with a burning temper and sharp fists.
Marriage scared me. I did not want another husband, but Curtis was clear that he wanted a wife and many children. ”
“Curtis never called you after he left? Never contacted you again?”
“He did. He called me. He wrote letters. I didn’t reply.”
“But why? You were pregnant. Didn’t you want help?”
“No. I didn’t. Why would I? I had my sisters to help me.”
“He doesn’t know, then, about…me?”
“No, honey, he doesn’t. I knew him for three weeks.
I didn’t want to marry him at that point.
Way too soon. And what if he found out about you and wanted to take you from me?
He had money. I didn’t. I ran a bar. I could have lost you in court.
Or I might have been made to share you. Half the time with him in Seattle, half with me.
I would have died to only be your half-time mother.
Was that terrible of me? Yes. It probably was.
Curtis doesn’t know he has a daughter. You haven’t had a father.
But I couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk losing you. ”
“Do you have any idea where he worked?”
“I don’t, Bellini. I should know. He told me, and I forgot. It was a new company, he told me. High-level technology. I remember that part. The rest was above my head.”
“Do you have the letters he wrote to you? There would be a last name on those.”
She waved a hand. “No, Bellini, I don’t. I threw them away. I had you, and you were all I needed.”
And that was that. I let it go. I have uncles because of my mother’s sisters’ husbands.
They are all jovial, hardworking people who reached out and gave me the father figures I needed.
I loved my grandfather, Cecil, too, and my grandma, Dot.
I was surrounded by cousins. I hardly noticed I didn’t have a dad. So, I let it go.
But now and then, I wondered…
Maybe one day I’d do a DNA test.
Not yet.
Not now.
Now all I could think about was Logan.
“How are you? It’s good to see you both again,” Mrs. Kerns said to Logan and me. We met at her home, where she has a studio in her daylight basement. She’s about five feet, two inches tall. Her hair is white, her spine is straight, her voice is firm. She wore a blue dance outfit.
“We’re well, ma’am,” Logan said. “It’s good to see you, too.”
“Hello, Mrs. Kerns,” I said. “Thank you for working with us.” It was like I was in high school all over again. She’s strict and sort of scary, and I knew we had to please her.
“Have you been practicing?” she demanded.
I hadn’t danced since Logan and I broke up.
“No, ma’am,” Logan said.
“No, ma’am,” I said.
Her voice registered her displeasure and disappointment.
She crossed her arms and tapped her fingers.
“That is unfortunate. Dance should have been a part of your lives.” Her tone was reprimanding.
“I thought I taught both of you better than that.” She hmphed, then said, “So, you’re going to dance at the burlesque show? I signed up, too.”
“I saw that,” I said, grateful to momentarily escape her disappointment. “Thank you, Mrs. Kerns. I can’t wait to see you dance again.”
“I’m going to surprise everyone.”
“What are you going to do?” Logan asked.
“If I told you, young man,” she clipped out, “it wouldn’t be a surprise now, would it?” She arched a brow.
I was glad that Logan, and not me, was on the receiving end of that arched eyebrow. Kids everywhere in Kalulell fear that arched eyebrow.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“All right, you two. What do you have in mind for Lady Whiskey’s Tits and Ass Christmas Burlesque Show dance?”
“It’s T for tinsel and A for All I Want for Christmas Is Santa.” My voice petered out. Why did my mother do this to me? The T and A Christmas show?
“Please, Bellini,” Mrs. Kerns rapped out. “I know your mother well. We’ve been friends for decades.”
Dang it! Now she was giving me the arched eyebrow. Frightening! I snuck a peek at Logan. He was arching an eyebrow at me, and I almost laughed, but didn’t because I didn’t want to get in trouble with Mrs. Kerns.
“I followed that link you sent out for the dating show for older people, Marry Me, and I nominated her to be the next bachelorette,” Mrs. Kerns said. “When I talked to her the other day about her stolen uterus, she said she was getting better.”
“She’s getting better. She loved your Italian soup. Thank you for making it for her. She said it strengthened her bones and calmed her estrogen levels.”
I could tell that Logan was trying not to laugh. “She did say that,” I whispered to him.
“Everyone loves my Italian soup,” Mrs. Kerns said. “It has healing powers, and it’s delicious. Back to the dance. What would you like to do?”
“We thought we should do something flashy but humorous,” I said. I tried to speak up like an adult, not a bumbling high schooler.
“Humorous?”
Her voice again showed her displeasure. I was getting in a lot of trouble today. Pretty soon, I’d have detention, I was sure of it.
“Humorous?” she repeated, aghast.
“Entertaining,” Logan offered, to save me from Mrs. Kerns’ dance wrath. “Christmassy.”
“Christmassy?” She glared at Logan, which was still totally scary, and I was glad he was getting the glare, not me.
She tapped her foot, thinking. “I have a plan. You will have to work hard, listen to my instructions, watch your posture and your timing, and be both mindful and natural. You must draw from your inner kinesthetic awareness. You must show me your expressive qualities through fluid movement. I want to see harmony and grace, strength and rhythm.”
“Yes, ma’am,” we both said as one.
“You both took dancing fairly seriously in school, although, Bellini, you often laughed and giggled too much. I understand that Logan was at fault for indulging in nonserious conversation and deliberately making you break your composure, and I had hoped you would both have more control in that area. Still, you did somewhat well. We have no time for giggling or other nonsense today. Let’s begin,” she said, serious as always as she moved into her first pose.
“Open your heart and prepare to let the music move you. We’ll warm up first. Arms up… ”
We copied her form, and for a moment, as we went through the exercises, I relaxed into the familiar, and then Mrs. Kerns’ familiar voice cut through, and the familiar fright filled me.
“Logan!” she snapped out. “Look at your form! What are you? A bulldozer? Bellini, have you not remembered anything I taught you? Are you deliberately trying to appear sluggish? Like a sloth? Are you a sloth? Are you a slug, Logan? No? Do you not hear the music? It’s like you two haven’t remembered a dang thing! Again…do it again…no…no…again!”
“Whew,” I said as I slumped in the front seat of Logan’s truck two hours later.
“Exactly.” He didn’t turn on the engine, his head against the headrest. “I can hardly move. Every muscle hurts. Even muscles I’ve never known about before.”
“It will be painful to wake up tomorrow morning. I should sleep through the day to avoid it.”
“I can tell that I’m going to be as stiff as a board tomorrow.”
As if on cue, we both groaned.
For a moment, we sat with our eyes closed.
Mrs. Kerns was the same as always. Strict.
Precise. Demanding. Organized. Efficient.
She began teaching us our four-minute dance, which she had immediately planned as soon as Logan had called her.
Apparently, Logan and I were one step away from being worms. Or slugs. Hard to determine.
We danced. We twisted and grooved. I rolled over Logan’s back.
He swung me up high, then swirled me down low and around him.
I slipped through his legs, he slipped under mine, he lifted me as I jumped.
I took double dips, his arm under my back.
We fell, we tripped over each other, we stumbled this way and that, we forgot the steps and were reprimanded to, “Concentrate! Do it again! No! That was incorrect! Bad form, Logan! What is wrong with you, Bellini? Have you lost your grace? Are you using three feet today? Logan, straight back! You look like the hunchback of Notre Dame. Do it over… Do it again… Try again… Oh for God’s sake! ”
“She said she would see us again in three days,” I groaned. “Because we need ‘so much work.’”
“I might not be alive by then,” Logan said.
“Let’s go get ice cream at Livvie’s,” I said. “My treat.”
“My treat,” Logan said. “I insist. I got you into this pain. Blame me.”