Tragic Renewal (14 page)

Harper wiped the sweat from her brow as she surveyed the work they had accomplished. Noah and she had spent most of the unseasonably warm February day tilling the large garden area. Over the last few weeks they had become closer every day, but chose to continue a slow relationship build rather than jumping in like two horny teenagers. She found a sense of calm comfort whenever he was near and she adored Grayson. Grayson had her wrapped so tight around his little fingers that if he asked her for a rocket to the moon she would have found a way to make it happen.

Grayson had spent the day running and playing with Ziggie and trying to help when he grew bored. His help consisted of getting in the way, but it was ridiculously cute watching him tool around on his little John Deer tractor trying to plow the dirt she had raked into place. Each time she heard his little boy giggle she wanted to scoop him up and cover him in kisses.

She looked at Noah who studied her from behind the now quiet tiller. He watched her as she watched Grayson and a slow sexy smile played over his face when he caught her eye.

“What?” she asked.

He took the thick leather gloves from his hands and placed them on the tiller’s cooling engine, never taking his gaze from hers. His hips swayed in a sexy rhythm as he approached with a devious gleam twinkling in deep pools of blue. When she tried to break eye contact he held her attention with one word.

“Don’t.”

She tried to force her eyes to move, to resist the smolder, but was unsuccessful. Her pulse quickened as her body warmed even more. Sweat danced on her scalp and played havoc when it dripped down her face. She didn’t move or shift her gaze, emboldened by the power she held over Noah.

When he was within feet her body began to tingle in response. His arms lifted and his hands cupped her face, trapping it within his capable strength. She had no choice but to hold still as he swept moisture from her cheek and buried his fingers in the hair behind her head. He unwound the sweaty bun and combed her hair down so he could run his fingers through the long locks.

A cry of protest dripped past her lips. “I’m all sweaty.”

“You have no idea how little I care about sweat. Besides,” he leaned down and inhaled her scent “your sweaty aroma drives me crazy… in a very naughty way.”

Harper’s pulse threatened to beat through her veins and spill blood upon freshly tilled ground. Her body heated to unbearable temperatures, and a flush traveled her nether regions as though connected to a high voltage battery.

She placed her hands upon his chest in an attempt to push him back, allowing some space between them so she could catch her breath and restore sanity to her sex addled mind. It was useless as he grabbed her hands and wrapped her rubbery arms around his waist.

“Relax. I’m going to kiss you now.” He whispered into her ear.

Knowing what was coming drove her to a cliff’s edge and threatened to plunge her into a cloudy oblivion of pleasure. The feelings that raced through her both frightened and fascinated her. In twenty years of marriage she was never out of control as she was when Noah was near.

With slow deliberation he lowered his head and placed a kiss of feather softness upon her lips. He held her still as his lips lingered before deepening the kiss with a light touch of his tongue. She parted her lips as his tongue probed deeper.

“Yuck, daddy, what are you doing to Miss Harper?” Grayson shouted from behind them. “Is something wrong with her mouth? Can I help?”

Harper and Noah leaned into each other and cracked up like schoolboys caught looking at Playboy under the slide.

Harper shook her head and turned to Grayson when she had a semblance of control. Trails of snickers continued to leak out, but at least she could face Grayson without completely losing it. Noah turned his body so Grayson wouldn’t ask any embarrassing questions about what was wrong with the front of his pants.

“Grayson, honey, I’m fine. Your dad was checking for…” Harper’s brilliant idea of explaining it fled when she looked at him closer.

He let out a loud guffaw and bent over double in a fit of giggles. “Miss Harper, I know what a kiss is. You don’t have to make up something for me. I’m a big boy. I’ve watched Grammy kiss daddy before, but never on the lips… yuck!”

“Why, you little rascal.” Harper took steps toward him, but with no hope of catching the boy who now ran with the swiftness of youth and the energy of a jackrabbit on speed. His giggles trailed behind him as he darted back and forth to keep her from catching him.

She walked back to stand beside Noah, shaking her head and grinning. “You have one cute kid, you know that?”

He smiled and draped his arm over her shoulder. “I love him to pieces, but sometimes he can be a little stinker. Probably better he stopped us though. I was ready to rip your clothes off and have my way with you right in the middle of fresh dirt.”

Her body heated before she gained control of her overactive libido. “How about we talk about dirt? It’s a safer subject, and we’ll avoid scarring the little kiddo for life.”

“Okay, but you’re going to have to back away from me a few steps… otherwise I won’t be able to control myself.” His eyebrows wiggled a suggestive dance as she backed away.

She sucked in a deep breath, clearing her nostrils of his masculine scent and filling it with the aroma of earth. “I’m a complete virgin to gardening so you’ll have to help me out. I’ve read a little and think I understand what to plant when. I plan to plant snow peas and sugar snaps all along that fence so they can grow up.”

“Good start and you can start planting them now since they like the cooler weather. If you plan to sell any though, I’d plant a lot more than one side of the fence. You can get the ones that don’t need a trellis and plant most of the garden. Once it starts getting warm, they’ll stop producing and you can replace them with warm season stuff, and a bonus is they make the dirt more fertile. What all do you want to grow?”

Harper considered things she’d purchased at farmer’s markets. “I’d like to grow squash, tomatoes, and maybe some herbs this year. I’d really love berries, but I’m a bit lost on how to grow those.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Great ideas… all, especially the herbs since few people grow those to sell. I can help you build a grow stand in your garage if you’d like to start the tomatoes early to get a jump on growth before planting outside. If you don’t want to support the tomatoes you’ll need to plant only determinate, otherwise you’ll need cages or some other support system. The squash will grow wild so you’ll need fewer plants than you think, I suggest planting a few unique varieties to make it more interesting.”

She smiled at him. “And how exactly did you come by all this plant knowledge?”

“My mom always had a garden when I was growing up, and yours truly learned more than he ever wanted to know about plants.”

“Well, what about the berries? You left those out.”

“They will take a couple of years to get established, and you’ll be better off planting those in the fall. I’ll help you with that project if you like. Soon you’ll have more than you can handle once those trees start producing and people hear about this place.”

“I was looking forward to some blackberry cobbler, but I guess I’ll have to settle for the store bought stuff. Now, for the most important question. Am I biting off more than I can chew?”

“Harper, I’ve watched you since the day you moved in. Wow, that was stalkerish… anyway, your determination to live out Cara’s dream will overcome any obstacles you run into. I’ve watched you win over a sullen depressed dog, work through muscles so sore you could barely stand upright, and fight the demons that battle behind your eyes. There is no doubt you will succeed.”

Her heart softened at the confidence he showed in her ability. “I don’t think I’ve had anyone so in my corner before. Where have you been all my life?”

“Waiting for you to get here.” He smiled and planted a light kiss on her forehead. “And it was worth the wait.”

She placed a hand over her heart. “I solemnly swear to do everything humanly possible to never tarnish the view you have of me in this moment.” She smiled then gestured toward the house. “Now, how about we take a break and have some lunch?”

Grayson had snuck up beside her without her hearing his soft footsteps. His small hand slid into hers. “Let’s go Miss Harper, I’m starving like a lion. Listen to my tummy growl.” He held his fingers to his lips while they listened to his stomach growl. “See?” He giggled then tugged her forward.

After lunch they all stood in the doorway, reluctant to part ways. Each time Noah and Grayson came to visit, Harper had a more difficult time watching them leave. She knew her attachment to them was bordering on unhealthy but couldn’t help herself when she was near Noah her feminine side screamed for release and Grayson brought out the mom she never got to be.

With a razor thin edge of resolve Harper tried to say goodbye. “Well, I guess I’ll talk to you later.”

Noah tilted her chin up. “Harper, am I crazy for not wanting to leave? I want to spend the whole day with you, doing everything or nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

Grayson piped up in response before she had a chance to answer. “Daddy, you’re not crazy. Can we stay here forever? Or maybe Miss Harper can come live with us? Wait, it’s better if we move here because she has Ziggie and the horses. But, if we do that I won’t ever get to slide on slide monster again. I’d really love to have a mommy. Hey, why don’t you get married?” His stream of jumbled answers and thoughts tumbled out in one continuous ramble.

Noah reached to ruffle his hair. “Slow down little man. We’re taking it one day at a time. Besides, Miss Harper may not want two rowdy boys invading her peaceful house.”

Harper listened to them banter. She loved the feelings that shot through her conscience. She’d fantasized about them moving in. Leave it to one rambunctious adorable boy to give voice to her hidden desires. The adult in her told her to address the situation in a logical manner, not give in to the spontaneity screaming for release.

Harper’s mind raced for words that would satisfy Grayson. She kneeled in front of Grayson to get his attention. “Here’s what I say, do you know how long one month is?”

“My daddy taught me, and it’s a looong time.”

She nodded her head. “Yes, sometimes it does feel that way. But it’s not really that long. Can you do me a big favor?”

His head nodded up and down vigorously.

“When you go home today I’d like you to mark today’s date on a calendar. And turn the calendar to six months later that will make it August 21 and mark that date too. By August 21 your dad and I will have decided whether living together is right for us. Does that work for you?” She asked as though talking to an adult.

A frown twisted his small features into a loveable sulky mask. His lower lip pooched out as a clear indication of unhappiness over waiting six months. Then a spark of an idea jumped into his head. “Ok, Miss Harper, but I can still come over whenever I want right?” He smiled exposing teeth that would soon fall out.

“Absolutely, you can come over anytime. But you always have to tell your daddy, or call me and I’ll come get you. It’s too far for you to walk.”

He held out his hand. “Deal.”

She shook his hand then kissed his cheek. “Okay kiddo, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Noah grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Now, can I have a kiss before you shuttle us on our way?”

Before she responded he leaned down and gave a quick, kid friendly peck on the lips. “We’ll see you tomorrow.” He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “And I’ll think about you tonight.”

Her cheeks flushed at the implication in his words.

Scott pushed the balls of his feet into the carpet setting the glider into motion. Light danced through the blue curtains hanging from the nursery windows and the soft intensity of classical music played through hidden speakers. Boyd slept cradled in his arms. His eyes tightly closed and his body forming a peanut shape with his pulled up legs. At six weeks old Boyd had grown from a newborn blob of a human to a smiling happy infant whenever his eyes were open. He slept through the night from the time he was four weeks old and had been a dream baby from the start.

Scott and Isabella had come to a semblance of truce. Through many late night discussions he had discovered Boyd’s father had died in a work accident not long after his one night stand with Isabella. She told him that she got drunk on a girl’s night out and ended up sleeping with a black man from the bar. He never questioned how she knew the man’s name (which she claimed to have now forgotten), if it was a one night stand and she was blasted when they hooked up. Any doubt he had about the validity of her confessions stayed buried under his unexpected joy at fatherhood. Regrets relating to Harper always floated under the surface of his mind. He poked them from time to time but chose ignorance over reality. Long ago he could have been a father.

Isabella turned out to be the model mom. She knew what Boyd needed before he voiced a single cry. Scott still puzzled over her pro handling of all things baby. If he didn’t know better he would suspect she had other kids. Day by day his doubts faded as he entrenched himself in his new role of fatherhood.

As the gliding motion slowed his brain chewed on Isabella’s claims about Boyd’s father, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on bothered him. He added a mental note to check on her story, research this work accident Boyd’s bio dad had died in. Surely a man dying on a charter boat tour would have made the news. If nothing else he knew the approximate date of his death, he’d have to research how to find archived obituaries. This mystery man who fathered his son would be less of a mystery soon.

Scott’s eyes grew heavy as his mind drifted toward unconsciousness, before sleep claimed him memories of meeting Isabella invaded his mind.

The workday was long and capped by a change of command ceremony. In preparation for Scott’s upcoming retirement he passed the reins of command to the next officer in charge. For the final months of his military career he could relax and clear his plate of most duties. He wore dress blues, retrieved from the dry cleaners the day before, the starch still held the creases tight. The shine from the full bird of colonel rank shone upon his shoulder and from the hat upon his head, winking in the sun as he crossed the parking lot at the local bar. The bar, a favorite among him and his comrades was frequented by military members getting off work and the women who sought men in uniform.

Scott didn’t notice the ratty car with rusted wheel wells and dented hood as he passed by absorbed in his mission. The man and woman sitting in the car noticed him as he walked by. A hurried conversation ensued as the woman adjusted her clothes and reapplied dark red lipstick. The man in the driver’s seat looked her over, tugged at the top button of her shirt until it popped free. When satisfied with the amount of cleavage he gestured her to get out of the car and follow the man in uniform. Scott’s thoughts were on women, hoping a woman to his liking sat inside the bar’s dark interior. With luck he would find a suitable candidate and be out the door before he got completely wasted and soiled his uniform.

He approached the bar and sidled his way into his favorite stool. The rack of ribbons pinned on his chest shifted as he sat. With a pride borne of years of training he adjusted the ribbons until satisfied they sat perfectly straight upon his dark blue jacket. Others sat at the bar or at tables throughout the small room, but most were in civilian clothes or the drab camouflage BDUs that were his normal choice of wear. His dress uniform was only drug out when necessary.

Loud music played over the jukebox in the corner and smoke filled the air with a choking haze. Scott gestured to the bartender. The bartender scooted a beer across the bar’s lacquered surface. Scott caught it and took a long draw. He heard the door open behind him. He scanned the room searching for his next Maxine, Staci, Tiffany… he didn’t care about names. He needed someone to scratch an itch, an itch his wife refused to scratch. He turned to face the open door, sunlight blazed around a short curvy figure. Her hair puffed forward as the door closed behind, setting off a cascade of sexy blond curls falling over ample cleavage. His breath hitched at the sight.

  Her eyes squinted into the dark room while she waited for them to adjust. Scott stood and made his way toward her. The closer he got the more convinced he was that she was the one he was searching for. Her face was that of an angel with a she-devil’s body encased in a too tight button down shirt and black pants painted over her tight ass. His hands ached with withheld caresses.

No words were exchanged, her eyes told the story his crotch interpreted. He captured her arm and steered her through the door she entered minutes before. When they were settled in his car, the engine purring, he turned to her. “What’s your name?”

She smiled a slow knowing smile and promptly set to driving him insane. “Isabella.” Her voice whispered with a husky twang.

His response was immediate, but he clamped down on it as he drove to the motel down the street.

“Have fun, uh, Mr. Smith.” Juan, the motel clerk, waived to him as he said the fake name Scott had used from the first time he visited the motel. Scott never considered the name tag that hung from his shirt or uniform as every visit he was distracted by more important things.

The room was dark and cold as they entered. A vague smell of moldy dampness permeated the air and threatened to kill the mood. Scott would not be distracted from his mission. Without preamble he threw Isabella to the bed and stripped her clothes, exposing the tantalizing cleavage and a surprising tattoo of a red dragon etched across her creamy skin.

Afterward they lay side by side, sweaty despite the cool air that blew on them. They lay trying to catch the breath forced from their lungs by the voracity of illicit sex. Scott rolled to his side and tucked a strand of damp curly hair behind Isabella’s ear. “When can I see you again? Once isn’t gonna be enough.”

A coy smile teased her red swollen lips, and a twinkle flashed in her bright blue eyes. “I don’t know Mr. Officer, why don’t you tell me?”

He rolled over her. “How about right now.”

From that day on Scott couldn’t get enough of the small powerful woman that drove him insane with desire. His brain no longer controlled his actions when it came to Isabella.

With a sigh Scott pushed up from the chair when Boyd squirmed in his arms. He reached to rub Boyd’s flushed cheek and returned his gummy grin. “Hi, little man did you have a good nap?”

Boyd kicked his legs and ripped out a loud fart.

“Well, I know what I’ll be doing now. Too bad your mom’s not home, she knows how I hate changing your stinky little bottom.”

Boyd kicked his legs more, letting out a continuous string of little toots.

Scott waved his hand over Boyd. “You stink mister, you better be all done.”

Boyd grinned and tried to capture Scott’s waving hand. He let out a triumphant grunt when he caught the waving hand and pulled it to his mouth to suck on Scott’s fingers.

Once Boyd was changed and smelling faintly of baby powder, Scott took him to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of breast milk from the fridge. Boyd kicked his legs while sucking loudly on the bottle. His eyes searched the room, turning up at the corners when he caught Scott’s in his field of vision. The nipple remained firmly clamped between his gums even after the bottle was empty and he sucked air.

Scott pulled the nipple from his mouth creating a light popping twang. Boyd screwed his face into a cry then changed his mind when Scott lifted him to his shoulder and patted the tiny back in a now familiar rhythm. Boyd let out a satisfying burp and squirmed, biting at Scott’s shoulder and kicking his feet.

Scott placed Boyd in the electronic swing and set the timer for half an hour. Boyd loved swinging and experimented with hitting the toys attached to the tray, watching as they spun and whirled at his touch. Satisfied Boyd would be content for a while Scott grabbed his laptop and settled on the couch to do some detective work.

He punched in his password and pulled up newspapers from eleven months ago. As he scrolled through archived stories he couldn’t find a single reference to a worker dying on a charter fishing boat. The slow burn of frustration leaked into his searches as each came up empty. No matter the parameters he used, the keywords he punched in, or an inconceivable range of dates he couldn’t find any reference that even hinted at what he searched for.

His mind whirred at the implications as he switched his search from news stories to obituaries.

Boyd let out a squawk as the timer ran out and his swing ground to a halt. Scott, distracted from his search, hurried to reset the time before Boyd got upset and needed more attention. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge as his mind worked on the lack of evidence to Isabella’s claim.

He settled back to the couch and woke the now sleeping laptop. Beer in hand he continued his search with single fingered punching of keys. Obituaries flew by. Pictures of mostly old, interspersed with a few young, people paraded by in a macabre dance of death. He skipped pictures of females, old white men, and kids. His mind tuned to fixate only on young to middle aged black men. Over the last eleven months only three black men had died in the city, but none fit the profile for which Scott searched. One died of a heart attack and two brothers died of carbon monoxide poisoning in an old house with crappy wiring and a broken CO2 detector.

Scott’s mind crunched through the possibilities. A white hot rage began to build in his core, a core that had recently found a sense of contentment. He clinched down on the bleed of wrath threatened to overwhelm his mind and send his blood pressure into orbit. He heard the distinctive click of the deadbolt turning over as he fought for control.

Isabella floated in on a cloud of too much perfume. She carried paper bags with string handles, evidence of her day of selfishly spending too much money. He knew within the bags there would be a token gift for him and Boyd hidden under her new clothes, makeup, and shoes.

He rose with a look of withering disgust. “Hi honey, good day shopping?” His words dripped with contained fury, catching her immediate attention and forcing her to look closer at her husband.

“Uh, yeah it was a great day. And I got you and Boyd something too.” Her voiced trembled with a wheedling tone that made Scott want to wrap his hands around her tender throat.

“I’m sure you did, like you always do when you’re out spending my money.”

Self-preservation flashed in her eyes as she picked up on the control he exerted over his murderous intentions. “I’m sorry honey. I’ll have to watch that. Is there something wrong?”

His eyes narrowed as he searched for the truth within hers. “How about you tell me about this mystery man that fathered my son? I can’t seem to find a single thing about his death.”

Instant tears flashed over her cheeks, making their briny way to her designer clothes and splashing over pools of perfume.

“Well?” He queried when she refused to respond.

“I uh, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“How about the truth? There’s a saying about the truth… it’s supposed to set you free. Though in your case you better tread carefully because I ain’t making any guarantees.”

Her hands visibly trembled as she pushed curls back after dropping the bags to the floor. The bags dropped with a quiet thunk, seemingly afraid to disturb the bull ready to kill its matador.

With a sigh her shoulders slumped and the rate of tears increased, fat drops dripped from her lids and followed the path created by their smaller counterparts. “I lied, okay? I told you he was dead because I thought it would be easier if there was no chance of him ever showing up. I never knew his name. He was some random guy at the bar. Hell, I don’t even remember the night other than some guy picking me up and carrying me from the bar.”

Her eyes searched his as she waited for a response that didn’t end in her dying. His mind worked the scenario, tried it on for size. The more he thought the more it seemed like reality, better than her first version. With iron control he pulled back and calmed his mind with deep breaths and glances at Boyd who batted toys on his swing, oblivious to the tension.

His teeth ground, creating a crunching noise within his head, he spoke with clenched jaws, lips moving enough to deliver his message. “This better be the truth.”