Chapter 2 #2
Then, Betsy died and I saw even less of Nova.
Sure, I sent Christmas and birthday presents every year to her dad’s house, but they weren’t much more than perfunctory gestures.
Hell, I never even talked with the little girl on the phone.
I just got thank you cards in the mail, and when she was little, photos of Nova posing with Santa.
She was a cute thing with chubby features, blonde ringlets, and big blue eyes.
I pretty much smiled at the snap and then threw it away.
But then Burt Callahan got a once-in-a-lifetime job offer in Dubai a couple months ago, and he couldn’t say no.
I can understand. Dubai is a central hub in the Middle East, with its vast oil reserves.
Plus, Burt’s been a chemical engineer his whole life.
He explained that he could take his daughter with him, but he didn’t want to drag her away from everything she knew.
As a result, he made a request: for me to house Nova for her last year of high school.
It wouldn’t be a big deal. I wasn’t going to be her official “guardian” or anything like that.
I was going to put a roof over the young woman’s head for her senior year as she finished up at La Salle in NYC.
Don’t get me wrong. I was going to say no.
Even though I have a townhouse in the West Village with plenty of space, I’d been a bachelor for a long time by then.
I wasn’t interested in disrupting my lifestyle, nor making any adjustments to my schedule.
Plus, I was sleeping with a rotating cast of women at the time.
Hell, it wasn’t even rotating. Sometimes, I only saw a date once before casting her aside, with no regret whatsoever.
I wasn’t going to change my habits because I had a teenage girl living under my roof.
Yet Betsy’s words came back to haunt me. My dead wife appeared to me in a dream, literally. I was somewhere in the liminal space between wakefulness and sleep, a woman’s sweaty, sated body next to me in bed, when Betsy’s face appeared in my mind.
“Hunter, what are you doing?” she asked, her voice gentle.
Immediately, I was embarrassed.
“Sweetheart, this is no one,” I growled, scooting myself away from Roberta or Renee, or whatever her name was. “She’s not you. I don’t know her. I don’t want to know her either.”
My ex smiled sadly at me, her blonde hair faded and her face pale.
“No, it’s not that, Hunter. I want you to find love again. I never intended for you to die alone after my passing.”
I straighten a bit.
“Really?”
“Of course not,” Betsy says. “You deserve to find a partner in life. But this isn’t about that. It’s about my daughter, Nova. You promised to take care of her after I was gone, remember?”
A wash of shame ran over me then, my face flushing hotly.
“Yes, of course,” I growled. “I remember perfectly. I’m sorry I haven’t done more, but Nova’s been fine. She’s been living with Burt, happy as a clam as far as I know—”
“And now Burt needs to move to Dubai,” Betsy said in a gentle voice. “He’s asked you to provide a home for my daughter for her final year of high school. Can you do that, Hunter? Can you make good on your promise to me?”
I didn’t even hesitate.
“Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want. I’ll make it happen.”
Betsy smiled tremulously, caressing my cheek with soft fingers even as she faded from view.
“Thank you, Hunter,” her voice came faintly, as if only an echo. “I’ll always love you.”
Then, I woke up, sweating and panting in the dark.
I’ve dreamt of my wife in the past, but never so vividly before.
I could almost sense Betsy’s presence in the room, and smell the sweetness of her perfume.
But alas, it was only the rank sex-stench of the woman next to me, our sweat and body fluids combining in a toxic stew.
Clearly, I got rid of her fast. My date was gone by early the next morning, and I made good on my promise to my late wife.
I called Burt immediately, and we set plans in motion for Nova to move into my house that fall, in time to start senior year.
It wouldn’t be a big deal. She could live on the second floor, as I continued to occupy the fourth.
We’d have an entire floor between us, and Nova was eighteen.
The young woman was legally an adult, and free to come and go as she pleased, as long as she didn’t bother me.
But my plans went haywire from the get-go. It was embarrassing actually. I’d known Nova was going to arrive in late August, but she didn’t give me an exact date. So I was having breakfast with my latest paramour when suddenly, my housekeeper informed me that we had a visitor.
“At 9 a.m.?” I asked, scowling. “What the fuck?”
“I’m afraid so, Dr. Taggart,” Sofia murmured, straightening her apron. “Should I ask her to come back?”
“No, I’ll tell her myself,” I growled before standing abruptly, causing the chair to fall backwards. “Who the fuck knocks on my door so early Saturday morning? Excuse me, sweetheart,” I said to my female guest. “I’ll be right back after taking care of this shitshow.”
“You do that,” the insipid blonde giggled while nibbling a piece of toast. “Oooh, I almost want to watch!”
I ignored her while stalking to the front door, cinching my bathrobe tighter around my waist. Yeah, I was naked beneath the terrycloth but who the fuck cared? This visitor was about to get a piece of my mind.
Throwing open the front door, I opened my mouth, ready to bark out insults. But the shout died in my throat because a gorgeous young woman stood on my front stoop, nervously biting her lip.
“Hi,” she murmured in a tremulous voice. “Hunter, it’s me. Nova. Betsy’s daughter.”
My jaw dropped to the floor. Holy fuck, this was Nova?
My mind went on the fritz, like an old-time TV going grainy black and white.
I recalled a couple of Christmas cards from years past, which had photos of Nova with Santa, but that was when she was a child.
By contrast, the young woman before me definitely wasn’t a child whatsoever because Nova had developed.
The woman before me was busty, wearing a tight sweater that highlighted enormous Double D breasts.
Her waist was narrow before flaring into wide hips hugged by soft denim, complete with long legs and feet encased in cowboy boots.
Long ringlets of blonde hair hung down her back, but it was the girl’s innocent expression that got to me.
Big blue eyes stared into mine, a gorgeous cornflower shade that reminded me of wide open skies and carefree summer days.
“Nova?” I managed in a croaky voice. “What are you doing here?”
The young woman gestured to a cluster of suitcases on the stoop behind her.
“I thought my dad told you,” she said in a slow voice. “I’m moving in with you for senior year,” she says. “Is that okay? I mean, if it’s not I guess I could try to find an apartment somewhere.”
“No, it’s fine,” I growl in a deep voice, recovering myself. “Did Burt say you were coming today though? Oh shit, I’m sorry, I’m not dressed.”
Her blue eyes flicked up and down my bathrobe-clad frame, and was it my imagination, or did I see a flicker of appreciation in her gaze? But Nova looked away quickly before nodding again.
“I think so,” she murmured. “Burt told me that you guys agreed on today, although maybe you meant the afternoon? I’m sorry I’m here so early.
My dad actually just took off for Dubai, and he dropped me off on his way to the airport.
I can call him, if you want. I’m sure that he’s still on his way to JFK,” she said, fumbling in her purse for a phone.
But I shook my head.
“No, it’s fine,” I growled. “I’m sorry I got the time mixed up. Come on in. I have a guest right now, but let me get rid of her.”
Nova looked startled, immediately intuiting that I had a female visitor based on the time of day, and my lack of clothing.
“Oh, I can come back,” she gasped, cheeks coloring. “I can even wait at a coffee shop around the corner, or—”
“No need,” I rasped, already bending over to take a large suitcase in each hand.
I could feel my bathrobe parting in the front, but it wasn’t a big deal because I stood up immediately, the suitcases light as a feather in my firm grasp.
“Like I said, it’s not a problem. I’ll ask Sofia to get the guest bedroom set-up too, if it isn’t already. ”
With that, it was done. Nova moved into my townhouse and life went on.
She started senior year at La Salle, and I continued working as an ob-gyn, seeing women of all ages through their reproductive years and beyond.
Yet there was a shift in the atmosphere.
I suppose that’s to be expected when a young woman moves into a confirmed bachelor’s home, but I was surprised nonetheless.
The change was imperceptible at first. Sure, we shared some meals occasionally, and it was fine.
They were courteous affairs, and nothing more.
But over time, there came to be something more.
I could scent a whiff of Nova’s perfume in the hallway, or see her umbrella in the stand by the front door.
Sometimes, I could hear a soft feminine voice on the phone when I walked up the stairs past her suite, and occasionally, there would be baked goods in the kitchen.
“Who’s making this shit?” I growled at Sofia, staring at what appeared to be a mountain of buttery scones. “You know I never eat dessert, much less pastries and cupcakes and the like. Shit like this has craploads of sugar.”
Sofia shrugged, unperturbed by my rudeness as she stirred something over the stove.
“It’s your stepdaughter, Dr. Taggart,” she said. “Nova likes to bake, so I let her come into the kitchen to try her hand. She’s talented.”
I stare at Sofia.
“But who’s eating this stuff?” I bark. “There must be two dozen scones here!”
Sofia merely shrugged again.