Steady (38 page)

Thanks to the godfathers she’d even managed to come in a little under budget. She was proud of herself again for helping this come to fruition. She loved taking something visible only in her mind, or in this case, Will’s mind, and making it visible to others. It was beautiful, and, again, it had been the best decision to have him lead.

She’d left Will tired in bed this morning. Who knew he could get tired, he who worked hard, played hard, and loved hard. Didn’t he realize the danger in that? She’d been restless this morning. Will’s desire for commitment was making her nervous, and work was starting to creep back into her psyche; she was back to thinking of her business plans, the ones that had fallen off her radar with the arrival of Will into her life.

She hadn’t discussed her business plans with him yet. She was already too close to him. His opinion, his presence, had already come to mean so much to her, maybe more than it should. She found herself structuring her life around his. She kept reminding herself that it wasn’t a good idea, but did she listen? Of course not; there was nothing but potential hurt coming for her.

She walked over to the edge of the bridge that now spanned the new pond. It was filled with water from the waterfall, which was located toward the front of the gardens. Will had spent a day acting as a drill sergeant to the volunteers in order to get that piece of equipment working. It worked brilliantly now. Of course it did. Will had made it so.

She walked over, stopping in the middle, taking in the fish swimming below. The bridge spanned the widest section of the pond that led one to a small, secluded sitting area designed for contemplation. A stone bench sat there waiting, so she sat to contemplate. It was a beautiful spring day, cool, temperatures in the morning in the high 60s; birds were talking to each other, probably a mother checking on her children or chewing out her mate. Who knew what birds said to each other? Squirrels ran around the garden, playing tag or whatever games squirrels played. She took a deep breath. She had so much to be thankful for, and she refused, for now, to think about her nagging worries.

Will’s design had been inspired. The trees had been shaped and trimmed with their new bonsai haircuts. Lighting and garden art remained. She’d located a few items she thought would work including several statues to be partners to Will’s small Buddha statue, which was hidden somewhere, tucked away from view until you unexpectedly came upon it. Well, she wasn’t going to get anything done sitting here, so up she stood, walking back over the bridge to finish what she had set out to do.

***

Katrina’s clock read 4 a.m. as she lay in bed next to Will. One of his arms lay across her chest and one of his legs was stretched out across hers, holding her in place; this position was a recent phenomenon, as if he suspected she might leave. She turned her head to study him, one of her favorite pastimes; didn’t think she would ever grow tired of it. His face was turned to her, and his eyes were closed.

She moved her free arm to trace his face, running her fingers over the almond shape of his eyes and tracing his cheekbones, which gave his face such beauty. Her hand moved to run over and through his hair. She loved this man, unerringly, unfailingly, and fearfully. And he was leaving tomorrow morning for a three-week trip to Singapore.

It didn’t look like she was going back to sleep, so she decided to get up. But how to do so without disturbing him? She started with her legs, wiggling them slowly, really slowly, one leg at a time from beneath his. So far so good. She now lay crosswise on the bed, her legs and feet sticking off one side of the bed, her upper torso still trapped. She worked one of her arms free, using it to slowly lift his arm, just a little. She scooted out from under him and then slowly lowered his arm back to its original position. She was now completely free from him, lying there, waiting a second before moving, breathing softly to make sure that she hadn’t wakened him.

She scooted over a little closer to the edge of the bed and was about to get up when Will’s arm shot out, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her back to him. She yelped, surprised. She turned to look into his eyes, which were open now and looking intently at her.

This was the intense Will. Most times she encountered the fun and playful Will in bed, but there were times when he was serious, and this was one of them. He just watched her, his eyes never leaving her as he turned his body to lie on his side, pulling her closer to him.

His lips found her neck and he kissed her softly, his right hand moving to run down the side of her body to rest at her hip. He continued to kiss her lightly, moving from her neck to just under her chin, then to her mouth and back to her neck. She lay there, not moving, shutting off any and all thoughts, soaking in the feel of his hands and mouth as they moved over her.

She closed her eyes as his mouth moved back to hers, his tongue seeking entry, which she gave willingly. He kissed her softly. She loved him, love the way he touched her reverently. He ran his hand from her hip to find her core, where it began to work its own brand of magic. He was so good at this.

“Oh, God,” she moaned as he moved his head down and began to suckle her breasts.

She knew her breasts were one of his favorite parts of her body; he’d told her enough times and spent major time there. She loved that about him, too—the time, care, and attention to detail that he gave to her body. Between his mouth and his talented hand, she was lost in sensation. He knew what he was doing, and his lips moved to capture her mouth, taking in her moans. He turned onto his back, bringing her to lie over him, gripping her ass and holding her in place as he continued to kiss her while his other hand was so, so busy.

Oh, God, she thought, giving in as her orgasm hit her. She found his lips and put her feelings into her kiss. His busy hands continued their play a few minutes more, and a second orgasm hit her. His hands continued, unrelenting in their play, until a little later she crested on her third. She lay on his body, limp, tingling all over, little electric currents moving through her nerves.
What is my name again
, she wondered as she closed her eyes, suddenly lethargic. He lay still, although she could feel him hard against her belly. He pulled her hips forward along the length of him and she moaned again weakly.

“I don’t know if—” He cut her off, kissing her.

“Yes, you can,” he whispered against her lips and slid her downward to take him into her body. She felt just perfect surrounding him. He began to slowly move inside her until, finally, his orgasm swept through him. Wow, he thought when he could think again. He was as boneless as she.

“I love you,” he whispered into her ear as she drifted off to sleep, still lying on top of him, her head at home just underneath his chin. He would miss her over the next three weeks. She was so important to him; he hoped she knew that. He’d tried to convey that to her as much as he could, as often as he could. He loved so many things about her, even her constant stream of facts. Who knew that could be a turn-on?

He stuffed a pillow under his head and smiled, pleased with the knowledge that he loved her like no other. His head rested on the pillow now and he looked down at her, spread over him. He moved his hands slowly over her body. She was one beautiful girl. He loved her beautiful, smooth dark-brown skin, which was still his favorite feature although he’d come to love her breasts almost equally.

His fingers combed through thick, smooth, black hair, wild around her head. She was his. He hoped she would come to accept that sooner rather than later. He knew she loved him, but he needed her to trust in that love. He wanted her to realize that life could be better, less scary, if you had someone to rely on, that you couldn’t guard yourself against the bad things that happened in life. He wanted to be there for her, with her, as they weathered life’s storms together.

One week later

Katrina slowed as she drove by Will’s home and checked it out, making sure everything was as it should be before proceeding on to her house. One week down, two more to go, she said to herself, mentally checking off the days that Will had been away. Thank God for work and for the gardening competition. There was always something to do, and those things helped her to while away the hours.

This moping around was the downside to loving someone as much as she did him, and it frightened and worried her. If she became this lovesick and sappy with him gone for a week, she didn’t want to contemplate not having him in her life.

She opened her door, kicked off her shoes, and walked through the house, down the back steps, and over to Lola’s. She reached the back door and knocked.

“It’s open. Come on in, Katrina,” she heard Lola call out. She entered and found Lola sitting on the couch with the TV on, feet propped up on the coffee table in front of her, toes wiggling, redder than ripe tomatoes too long on the vine, anchored together by that pedicure foot thingy women used when they painted their toenails.

“What are you watching?” Katrina asked, taking a seat next to her.

“Housewives from somewhere,” she said absently, her eyes glued to the women sitting around a table arguing about something.

“Why are they so angry?” Katrina asked.

“Who knows, I just turned it on,” Lola responded, reaching for the remote and hitting the mute button.

“What’s up, girlfriend?” Lola asked.

“Nothing much,” Katrina said, watching the ladies move their heads and faces, animated in their exchanges, trying to guess what they were saying by reading their expressions.

“Miss ol’ Will, huh?”

“Yep. I’m not going to even pretend. I didn’t think I’d miss him this much. It’s amazing how quickly you can come to depend on someone, huh?”

“You’re preaching to the choir.”

“How long have you and Oscar been married?”

“Ten years, give or take one or two,” she said, smiling at Katrina, who rolled her eyes but returned her smile.

“When did you know you were serious, that you wanted to spend your life with him?”

“Hell, I knew from the start; it was Oscar I had to convince.”

“I should have known,” Katrina said, laughing now, putting her feet on the table next to Lola’s. “Weren’t you afraid?”

“Afraid of what?”

“That it wouldn’t work out? That it’s too easy, that it’s too good to be true?”

“What’s too easy or too good to be true? You and Will?”

“Yeah, maybe. He loves me and I love him. He’s been great. Surely that can’t last. He’ll grow tired. He’ll want to move on. Even if he doesn’t, what if something happens to him? I don’t think I could handle either scenario.”

“Slow down, Katrina. I think that there is a two-part question lurking in there somewhere, but the answer to both of them is that you don’t know and you can’t ever know. You have to trust that he will be there for you, based on what he shows you, how he treats you. And you can’t control whether something happens to him, just as he can’t control whether something happens to you. You have to enjoy each other and not worry about the ‘what if’,” Lola said.

Katrina stared at the TV again. “I don’t know. I’m making a big deal over nothing. Don’t mind me,” she said, taking the remote from Lola’s hand and returning the volume to its earlier setting.

Lola watched her for a second more, choosing to let it go. She knew that this was the longest Katrina had ever been involved with a man. There was hope in that, she thought to herself. She hoped Katrina would give this a chance. Lola wanted to see her happy. She knew Katrina had had more than her share of heartache, but Will had been good for her. She’d been happier and more carefree than Lola had ever seen her.

***

The time difference made conversing with Will a little difficult. It was his Monday morning to her Sunday night, plus he had to work during the day. He couldn’t be expected to sit on the phone all day with her, and that was not even taking into account the expense of that proposition. So she’d confined herself to talking to him twice daily, and sent e-mails often; those were cheap. Texting was too expensive. She’d learned that the hard way.

After leaving Lola’s, she made her way home, showered, and went to bed, but was unable to sleep. She had gotten used to Will’s hard body next to hers. She turned on the TV, flipping through channels, not really focusing on anything in particular. Her cell rang and she answered, thinking it was Will. It was Colburn.

“Hey, Colburn.”

“Katrina, I am at the hospital.”

“What are you doing at the hospital? Are you okay?” she asked, sitting up in her bed, her feet immediately going to the floor.

“It’s not me; it’s Charles. The paramedics said that he may have had a heart attack. He was counting the cash from the register, like he does every night. I came in and found him on the floor. I called the ambulance and they rushed him here.”

“Okay, what hospital? I’m on my way. Is he going to be okay?”

“I don’t know. They wheeled him in a few minutes ago. Oh, Katrina,” he said, his voice breaking. She’d never, ever heard her Colburn sound this way.

“What hospital, Colburn?” she asked again.

“Central, near downtown.”

“I know the place; I’ll be there in a second,” she said, hanging up, already reaching for her clothes. Seconds later she was in her car, backing out and moving down the street.