The Storm (Fairhope) Read online

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. You always make time to play golf and fish. Why don’t you just take her with you?” I asked slyly. “I’m so not kidding!”

  “She will be the best fisher-woman in town.” He paused. “I hope having a kid won’t mean a sexless marriage.” A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, but there was always a little truth in every joke.

  “Yeah, me either. I’m not ready to embrace solo sex.” I looked up at him with a scandalous smile. “Speaking of, I need a new toy. Grace needs to host another one of those parties.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “When I met you, I never thought you would be so sexual. You seemed so … quiet.”

  “Didn’t anyone ever tell you to watch out for the quiet ones?” I raised my eyebrows and winked, grabbing him spontaneously and pulling him close. I brought my lips to his and lightly parted them, waiting for him to lead.

  Now that my second trimester kicked into gear, sex regained its appeal.

  Effortlessly, he kissed me, our tongues wrapping around one another’s, awakening an eagerness that zapped me of any other thoughts. “I want to be the only toy you play with tonight.”

  I pulled away and gave him a glance at the fire in my eyes. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

  “Shhh.” His voice rose slightly as he gently lowered me on the soft blanket I hadn’t noticed. “Take your clothes off for me. I will be right back.”

  I obliged, slowly undressing with careful finesse, leaving my lacy panties for him to remove. Naked under the stars, I allowed the mystical, cool breeze to relax me as my eyes fluttered shut.

  I never heard him return. Suddenly, he lay beside me, using his firm hands to massage me with the skill of a professional. I bristled with pleasure as he caressed warm liquid over every square inch of my body.

  “Jana, you are beautiful,” he murmured as I gently spread my legs, my muscles reduced to mush. Embracing the sensation of floating in a realm between a memory and a daydream, I relished his magical touch.

  After sliding off my thong, he teased one finger over my sensitive spot, and I sighed at the promise of what came soon. Maybe six seconds and I was soaking wet, dying for him to enter me. His intent was sweet romance, but I wanted to grab his body and force him inside me and rock him until he couldn’t see straight. My sex drive now wild and untamed, my body pulsed with intensity unfamiliar to my experience.

  I reached up to unbutton his shirt, exposing his sexy arms and chest. I slid his pants and boxers down and unleashed a seductive smile, my eyes lifting from his hardness to his heated eyes. Not much foreplay would be necessary.

  I slid my tongue up and down the length of his shaft, amazed when he got even harder.

  He started to position himself on top of me, but I placed one hand firmly on his chest and pushed him away. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, but then he grinned as I slyly turned over and rose on my hands and knees.

  “You feel so tight,” he breathed as his body became one with mine. He squeezed my ass and let a soft moan escape with the first hard thrust.

  He was the perfect fit. With every move he made, my body longed for more of him, grinding against him until I matched his pace. I wanted to slow down, to enjoy this fabulous sex underneath a ceiling of glistening stars, but I lost every ounce of self-control and thrust against him faster and faster until he exploded with pleasure.

  “Damn!” He gazed into my eyes, his wild with ecstasy, as I smirked with satisfaction. “You’re an animal.”

  I rolled over, collapsing on the blanket cushioned with soft grass. I guided his hand back to where he started, my mouth forming a long “O” within seconds. Feverishly, I grabbed his other hand and placed it on my breast. He took the cue and fondled each nipple until they were both pebbled.

  Hold off, hold off … I could have come on command.

  He rolled his finger in a circular motion, changing his rhythm to make me last longer. I thought I might fall unconscious if my legs got any weaker.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I came with such power that my whole body jerked. My eyes flew open just in time for my release to coincide with the surreal blend of the majestic stars and distant heavenly bodies as they faded into the night.

  Andrew smiled and lay on his back, gazing into the celestial sky, lacing his fingers with mine. The breeze intensified, serving as the perfect cool down as we cuddled under the glistening stars.

  This was perfection.

  “Why don’t you stay home with Calla after she’s born?” Later that night, he cupped my freshly washed face in his hands as we lay facing each other in bed.

  “I love what I do,” I said truthfully. “There’s no doubt that having a second income makes life less stressful in many ways. Part time would be awesome, but I doubt that’s happening. I think all of Covington’s ‘Working Mother’ awards are bullshit.” I fingered our luscious sheets. “I can work and still be a great mother.”

  “I have no doubt about that, but you would be much happier following your dream of being an artist.”

  “If I could paint all day, I would be the happiest girl in the world.” I smiled sweetly until visions of myself shower-less, dragging around in the same worn sweatpants I’d slept in, crazy from insomnia and lugging a baby on my hip all day, every day, made me claustrophobic and wiped the smile off my face. “I don’t know about the whole stay-at-home mom thing. I can’t even cook dinner without something burning, and breastfeeding sounds like a chore I might suffer through for a month or two.”

  An adorable smile crossed his features—the same one that made me fall in love with him. He cautiously rubbed my round belly. “What’s it like?”

  “Being pregnant?”

  “Yes.”

  I thought about his question for a moment before answering. “There’s nothing like knowing a true miracle is growing inside of me. Something precious … a perfect combination of you and me. Every time I feel her kick, I realize that the most important part of our lives has not yet begun.” I paused thoughtfully. “It’s the most exhilarating feeling in the world.”

  “Sounds like winning a golf tournament,” he kidded with a twinkle in his eye.

  I playfully swatted him. “Way better than that, I’m sure.”

  Chuckling, he pressed his hand down a tad bit more firmly. “Kick for me, Calla!”

  We sat in silence, grinning expectantly, until she finally relieved our suspense about two minutes later.

  I giggled at his boyish excitement. “You’re going to be a fabulous father.”

  “I know,” he said confidently. “And whatever happens with your job, I will take care of both of you.”

  “I know you will.” I squeezed his hand, hoping he missed the flecks of worry that crossed my eyes.

  We chatted nonchalantly until sleep found him. As I lay awake in bed, staring idly at the ceiling, I began to realize that, despite my occasional doubts, God still spoke to me through the sweet whisper that covered my heart. That solemn inner voice that materialized constantly, the one always murmuring gently in my ear, nodding me in a certain direction … it was the whisper.

  Grace thinks God gives her physical signs, such as when she prayed about what to major in and a random book from Amazon arrived on her doorstep called: Marketing: Doing What You Were Born to Do. She ignored the address, which belonged to the Frito-Lay manager across the street, and took it as her sign. After she read it, she played dumb and returned it to him. Like every other single man ten years her senior, he took one look at her and quickly forgot about her indiscretion. He asked flashy Grace out, dismissing the huge rock on her left ring finger. Of course she said no, although she was disappointed to miss the Ruth’s Chris steak he tempted her with. However, she did major in marketing, and voila, she’s a marketing superstar. She swears it was God.

  But for me, physical signs offer no promise … I have to hear God by feeling Him speak to me. I felt Him then, sprinkling hope all over my pregnant, naked body in the midst o
f my storm.

  Okay, God. I hear you. But what do I do now?

  I lay thoughtless in the brief silence, letting myself truly relax.

  Trust me, said the whisper as I peacefully drifted off to sleep for eight solid hours of sweet dreams filled with beaches and oceans and little Calla.

  I WOKE ABRUPTLY to the shrill ringing of my cell phone. I jumped frantically, realizing within moments what the wincing noise was. Whining and half asleep, I fumbled around for the nuisance on my nightstand.

  “What do you want, Grace? It’s barely light outside. No, I will not go walking with you if that’s what it is. I prefer to exercise when I’m rested.”

  Andrew kicked my right leg, groaning. “Phone off or go in the other room.”

  “I’m sorry,” she almost whispered. “Wasn’t calling to go for a walk. Just needed someone to talk to.” A long silence followed. “Something is happening, Jana.”

  I gulped and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. She spoke in that painful rasp when she was wallowing in a low point. “Do you want me to pick you up and we’ll go get coffee?” I glanced at the clock. “I could use a pick me up.”

  “Yeah … yeah, that would be good. I don’t want to wake Gavin.”

  Grace was still in her pajamas half an hour later when I arrived, and the glitz had disappeared from her typically shimmering eyes. The deep bags under her eyes looked like they had been imprinted with a permanent marker, and her normally rosy skin was noticeably pale. Her blond waves were frizzy and unkempt.

  She struggled to offer me a smile.

  “Hey,” I said softly as she morosely sunk into the passenger seat.

  “I’m so sad,” she said, staring grimly at the ground. “There’s still a chance I’m being paranoid…”

  “Paranoid about what?”

  “I followed him, Jana.”

  “Gavin?”

  She took a shaky breath. “He keeps coming home late, and last Friday he smelled like Mary Kay perfume. The kind I used to sell … but haven’t had in the house for years. So, Saturday, when he said he had to run an errand, I packed up and followed him. I can’t believe he didn’t notice. He met a woman at the park. He handed her an envelope, but then they hugged. He touched her, Jana.” She was sobbing now, her face buried in her hands.

  Gavin Milton was the last male on Earth I would pin for an adulterer, even though he was blessed with the body of a Greek god. “What next?” I asked finally, trying to focus on the road.

  “I confronted him, and he waffled. He said I was irrational and needed counseling. He claimed it was work related, but why would he be so defensive?” Clearly shaken, her tears spilled rapidly. “He was furious that I followed him. He was with another woman, Jana. I never in a million years thought he would do that to me.”

  “He wouldn’t, Grace.”

  “But Jana … his phone was locked. He’s never had a password before, and now all of a sudden his phone is locked? Don’t you think that’s strange?”

  “Calm down. He probably should have his phone locked given the nature of his job. After all, he will be a detective soon. This is Gavin you are talking about … he is a cop, and he sees women all the time. You are being irrational.” I clutched her shoulders and turned her eyes to mine. “Grace, is this not the man who ‘sees straight into the hidden realms of your soul, who keeps you safe with an eternal love that drowns out every poison that threatens to overcome you’… isn’t that how you put it?” Her mental illness came delivered with a prepaid package of beautiful words. Maybe one day she would concentrate long enough to enter her poetry in contests.

  She nodded through her tears.

  “Grace, this is the Gavin who made you wait until you were married to make love, to ensure that you felt special and not a prisoner to your past. What guy does that? None, especially when his fiancé is far from the Virgin Mary. Do you really think he’s sleeping with this mystery blond?”

  “I don’t know. I want to believe him…”

  “Then believe him, Grace. He’s the father of your unborn child, the man you vowed to spend your life with. If anyone deserves the benefit of the doubt, it’s him. Don’t question that bond unless you know for sure. Okay?” I refused to back down. Gavin’s love for Grace bled through every song he wrote, and the way he turned away from the dozens of gorgeous temptresses who wanted to play. Grace was no easy woman to tame, but he chose her. He wanted her.

  I could still see doubt flickering in her glassy eyes. “All right, Jana. I will give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  We sat in silence until we got to Starbucks. I watched her staring apprehensively out the window, knowing she was still picturing Gavin doing who knows what with the mystery woman.

  She sniffled, more tears gliding down her cheeks. “Work has been stressful, too. I haven’t received commission in two months.”

  “I know how you feel.” Work and stress were synonyms in my internal thesaurus.

  “No, you don’t, Jana. Andrew probably makes three, four times what Gavin is bringing home. You could survive without your entire job. When I don’t get commission, we have to count every penny before something as miniscule as renting a movie. Maybe you won’t have a huge savings account, but nobody’s going without in your house.” Bitterness snarled its way through her words.

  The shock must have been written all over my face.

  Once again, Grace covered her face with her hands. “I’m sorry, Jana. I take it back.”

  “It’s okay. I wish I could make everything better for both of us.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Forgive me?”

  I touched her shoulder comfortingly, rolling down my window. “Of course, Grace. What’s wrong with you is called pregnancy.”

  Pregnancy without your bipolar medication, which is not very smart. Voicing my opinion would do no good.

  She slumped down in the seat, and I noticed splotches of yesterday’s mascara dripping down her cheek. “Thanks for being here for me, even though I’m a bitch sometimes. Caffeine helps.” A feeble smile crept across her gorgeous-yet-messy face as we waited to order.

  Guiltily, I felt like a second rate best friend. Channeled deeply in my own problems, I recollected her number flashing on my cell phone at least three times that week, but her calls went unreturned.

  I handed her a few tissues, the good kind soaked with lotion and Vicks.

  “Okay, enough of that crap.” Grace sat up straight in her seat as I rolled down my window. “Let’s talk about something more lighthearted.”

  The attendant came over the speaker. “Welcome to Starbucks, what can I get for you today?”

  “Amen to that,” I said to Grace.

  “Ummmm … I want a tall iced mocha, definitely with whipped cream….” I looked at Grace, and she mouthed, mocha frappe, grande. “And a grande mocha frappe without caffeine.”

  She set a gift card in the palm of my hand. “This is my treat, a peace offering for my bitchiness.”

  Obligingly, I accepted. “Love you, girl.”

  “I know.” Her mood shifting rapidly, as I was accustomed to, she yanked her large Kate Spade bag from its temporary home on my backseat. The mischief in her eyes was unmistakable. “Okay, this will take our minds off my insane theories. So … I was packing up bags in our guest room, which as you know is my junk room, and look what I ran across…”

  She whipped out a four-by-six frame and shoved it in my face. “Ha! You remember this?”

  I burst out laughing as I stared at Grace’s signed True Love Waits pledge. She was nearly crying. “How … could … I forget?” I thanked the attendant, who was looking at us, understandably, like we were nuts. I hurriedly grabbed our drinks.

  We were fifteen, and the Southern Baptists forged a True Love Waits campaign in our public school system, back before anything that even hinted at religion was cause for a lawsuit. Young, awkward, and boyfriend-less, I was determined to keep my legs closed until I got married. Grace and I had shared many co
nversations over Nacho Doritos, Chips Ahoy cookies, and chilled Dr. Pepper about how special it would be to save that gift for our husbands.

  “How far do you think we can go, and it be, well, you know, still pure or whatever?” I think we were fourteen when she asked me that. It was a good question. I remember how embarrassed I felt at the wetness that pooled between my legs during my first kisses. Was a kiss supposed to make me feel like that? Maybe I was a freak.

  I’d thought about it a lot after letting some boy go up my shirt. “I think as long as we don’t go all the way, we’re going to be doing better than ninety-nine percent of the world.” I’m sure that was not the opinion Daddy would have liked to hear.

  However, as we sat in the crowded school gymnasium that day with all the other happy virgins, Grace was strangely quiet. I watched her curiously as she dutifully signed her red and white pledge, placing her hands neatly in her lap like a prayerful nun. I, Grace Thomas, pledge to remain a virgin until my wedding night.

  Grace’s head hugged the ground as we walked to her car after school that day. She was not speaking, which was disturbingly rare. Her wild hair hung in her face, keeping her eyes hidden.

  “Grace, are you sick?” She unlocked the doors, and I plopped in my designated passenger seat.

  “No…” She glanced at me shamefully. “I can’t do this anymore. I have to tell you something.”

  “Oh, God. What?”

  She took a deep breath and shook her head. “You’re going to die.”

  “Okay, WHAT?” I was dying to know her secret. Had she cheated on our algebra test? I knew it! She never got better scores than me. Or, did she really call Katie Klein’s boyfriend like Katie had accused her of? I wanted to believe Grace, but I knew how much she hated Katie that year…

  “I just CAN’T. Never mind. I can NOT tell you.”

  “Say it, Grace. We are best friends. No secrets, remember? I’m not getting out of your car until you say it.” I folded my arms and stared at her defiantly.

  Approximately sixty seconds of silence later, she slowly pulled out her True Love Waits card and set it on the dash. “I’m a liar, Jana.”