Authors: Jan Hudson
While the officer radioed in the
description of the car, Kale said, “I suppose we’ll have to take a taxi to the
movie.”
Sunny bit her lip and rubbed her
arms. Her uneasiness had blossomed into anxiety. “Something is wrong. Very
wrong.”
“Hell, yes, something is wrong.
Some sleaze just hot-wired the car and helped himself to it.”
“No, something else. I’m going
to call Estella.”
The phone rang. And rang. And
rang. She tried the land line at the house. It rang and rang. And rang.
“Estella didn’t answer,” Sunny
told Kale, kneading her fingers together. “Kale, I need to check on her. Now.”
She felt as if a bucket of agitated bees had been loosed inside her.
Kale hugged her against him. “Honey,
calm down. We’ll go check on her, but I’m sure she’s okay. Maybe she went out
to get some pickles and ice cream, or maybe she’s in the bathroom.”
Sunny shook her head, feeling a
sense of urgency. “We have to go home.” She tugged on the lapels of his jacket.
“Immediately.”
* * *
When the patrol car let them out
at the big house on
Ocean Drive
, Sunny ran up the walk, then waited impatiently as
Kale unlocked the door.
She burst inside, calling
Estella. When there was no answer on the lower floor, she took the stairs up to
her friend’s room two at a time. “Estella!”
When she heard a muffled moan,
Sunny threw open the door. Estella lay atop the coverlet, knees drawn up,
drenched in sweat. Several sheets and towels were in a heap on the carpet.
“Ohmygod! Kale, call an
ambulance!”
Panicked, Sunny ran to the bed,
knelt beside her friend, and took her hand. “Hang on, Estella. Kale is calling
an ambulance.”
She clutched Sunny’s hand. “No
time for . . . ambulance,” she gasped. “This baby is . . . coming.”
“Oh, no! No! Pant and blow. Blow,
blow, blow. Don’t push. For God’s sake, don’t push!”
Kale rushed in. “They’re on the
way!
Estella cried out as a
contraction heaved her body. Kale blanched.
“There’s no time,” Sunny said, a
calmness flowing over her. She picked up the clean linen from where Estella had
obviously dropped it. “Help me get this under her. Blow, Estella, blow!”
“But we can’t—”
“The hell we can’t!”
“Wait a second.” Kale rushed
into the adjoining bath, and there was a loud crash before he dashed out,
dragging a shower curtain, just as Estella screamed with another contraction.
He thrust the plastic at Sunny. “I’ll lift her and you fix the bed.”
He smiled at Estella and said
gently, “Don’t worry about a thing, sweetheart. We’ve got it under control.”
Estella tried to laugh, but her
sweat-soaked face turned into a grimace as her body bucked.
When the contraction had passed,
he said, “Put your arms around my neck. I’m going to lift you just a little
bit. That’s good. That’s good.”
Sunny quickly shoved the curtain
and a pair of folded sheets under her. “We’ve got to wash our hands.” She
sprinted to the bathroom, scrubbed up to her elbows, and doused her hands and a
large section of the floor with half a bottle of alcohol.
Kale met her on her way back. “I
hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered out of the side of his mouth, “because
I sure as hell don’t.”
“We watched a movie in
childbirth class.”
“Oh, you have a world of
experience,” he said sarcastically. “Don’t we need to boil some water?”
Sunny rolled her eyes. “For
what? A cup of tea?”
Estella yelled, “It’s coming! It’s
coming!”
“Wait!” Sunny screamed. “Blow!
Don’t push yet. I’m not ready!” She hurriedly arranged Estella’s clothing and
was about to drape a sheet over her knees, as she’d seen done in the film, when
Estella cried out again.
Sunny’s eyes grew large. “It’s
crowned!” Kale ran back in, his hands dripping. “Crowned?”
“I can see its head. Kale, when
the next contraction comes, hold Estella’s shoulders up and help her push.”
“It’s coming!”
Sunny climbed on the foot of the
bed and yelled, “Okay, okay! Here it comes!” A tiny head appeared, and she
eased her hand under it. “Oh, it’s wonderful, Estella, it’s wonderful. Here
comes the shoulder. Take a couple of cleansing breaths. Good, good. Now! One
more, one more. Push! Oh, here it is, here it is. Oh, Estella, it’s wonderful.
It’s a boy! He’s perfect. He’s beautiful.”
The wrinkled little face squinched
, his lungs filled, and he let out a wail. Estella laughed and fell back to the
pillows in exhaustion. Sunny started laughing, tears running down her face.
Kale stared at the tiny, mewling
infant, awestruck. A slow smile slid over his face. “That’s incredible. You did
great, Estella. Just great.” He kissed Estella’s forehead, then winked at
Sunny. “Good job, Dr. Larkin. Excellent, in fact.”
High on adrenaline and the magic
of the miracle she’d just participated in, Sunny gave a saucy bobble of her
head and grinned smugly. “Not half bad, if I do say so myself.” She wiped the
baby with a soft towel and laid him across Estella’s tummy. “Do you have a
shoelace handy?” she asked Kale.
“I’m wearing loafers. Why do you
need a shoelace?”
“I think we have to tie the
cord. I read in a novel once where they used a shoelace.”
Estella, breathing raggedly as
she stroked her newborn’s back, said, “Forget it. You’re not . . . using a
nasty shoelace . . . on my baby.”
* * *
A few minutes before
midnight
, Sunny and
Kale, arms around each other’s waists, stood at the hospital nursery window and
watched Ed Jones, Jr., sleep.
“Isn’t he wonderful?” she asked,
resting her head against Kale. “Seven pounds and three ounces of perfect,
beautiful baby. Won’t Ed be thrilled when he gets the message?”
Kale pulled her closer against
him and kissed the top of her head. “It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever
witnessed.”
“It terrifies me to think what
might have happened if we hadn’t come home when we did.”
“But we did, and everything
turned out fine. You heard her obstetrician say that it’s rare for a first baby
to come so quickly. And the doctor said that you did all the right things. I’m
very proud of you.”
Sunny sniffed.
“Are you crying?”
She shook her head and sniffed
again.
“Aw, sweetheart.” He turned to
her and gathered her close.
She clung to him, feeling
comforted by his strength, bonded to him by the invisible golden threads of the
experience they’d shared. “Let’s go home.”
* * *
With Kale driving the Escort,
they pulled into the driveway of the big house facing the bay. Sunny said, “When
the ambulance came, I was in such an uproar that I forgot to ask you where you
found my keys.”
“In the pantry on top of a can
of tuna. Why do you leave them in such strange places?”
“I don’t know. I usually put
them down with the last thing in my hand and swear that I’ll remember, but I’m
always losing them. Even when I put my keys someplace special so that I won’t
forget, I do.” She yawned as he helped her out of the car.
“Tired?”
“Mmmm. But a good tired.” As
they walked to the back door, his arm was around her, and her head leaned
against his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I’d
love to have a glass of wine and a long soak in a bubble bath.”
“Need someone to wash your back?”
His question was the perfect
opening for her to put a damper on any intimate involvement between them, and
its playful tone would allow her to do so without making a big deal of it. But the
simple no didn’t come. She honestly didn’t want to say no. Instead she said, “Are
you a good back washer?”
“The best there is. I learned my
skills from a pro in the Orient.”
She laughed softly. “I’ll bet
you did.”
He kissed her forehead and said,
“Use the tub in Ravinia’s room. It’s bigger. I’ll get the wine.”
Upstairs, Sunny undressed and
put on a short lavender silk robe. By the time she’d walked down the hall to Ravinia’s
room, her heart was beating wildly. She opened the door cautiously and turned
on a Tiffany lamp, feeling a niggling disquiet about entering. But instead of
the sense of foreboding she expected, the room seemed alive and welcoming.
The leaded-glass lamp shade cast
a muted, multicolored light over the room and illuminated the huge bed, with
its intricately carved headboard and gold silk spread. She could almost hear Ravinia’s
tinkling laughter and her melodious voice saying, “Come in, my dear. Enjoy!”
She smiled and made her way to
the bathroom, which was almost as large as her own bedroom. She sat on the edge
of the immense sunken tub and sniffed the various decanters of bubble bath
until she found an herbal one that suited her. She ran warm water and drizzled
in the fragrant liquid. When the tub was filled, she draped her robe across a
silk jacquard footstool and stepped down into the deep bath.
As she leaned back, enjoying the
luxurious warmth and the scents wafting up from the water, she noticed the
hand-painted tiles that lined the alcove. Her eyes grew wide. Sloshing water,
she sat up and peered closer, examining the subject matter of the paintings.
Her eyes grew wider and her mouth gaped.
“Studying the art collection?”
Kale stood by the tub holding
glasses and a wine bottle. A red hibiscus blossom was stuck in his shirt
pocket. She felt herself blush from her toes up. Thank goodness she was covered
to her shoulders with bubbles.
“Did you know those were here?”
She inclined her head toward the tiles, where couples cavorted in a variety of
settings.
He grinned and nodded. “They’ve
been here for years. Ravinia felt that their acquisition was a tremendous coup
for her. ‘The quintessence of early Italian erotica,’ I believe she said, by a
truly inspired artisan.’ I forget his name.”
“He must have been inspired by
the Kama Sutra.”
Kale laughed, poured the wine,
and handed her a glass. “And what would a delicate young maiden such as yourself
know about the Kama Sutra?”
Sunny smiled over the rim of her
glass. “Quite a bit, actually. I studied it thoroughly at the age of thirteen.”
She chuckled, remembering. “Penny Wilcox swiped a copy from her parents’
closet, and five of us spent all night at Mimi Nelson’s slumber party poring
over every page. But these”—she gestured toward the brazenly explicit scenes— “make
that volume look tame.”
He smiled. “When Foster and I used
to spend summers here, we could hardly wait until Aunt Ravinia left the house.
We’d make a mad dash for this place and stare at the tiles in awe. We even took
pictures, although the proportions of some of the characters were overwhelming
to a fifteen-year-old boy.”
Sunny sneaked a peek from the
corner of her eye. “They are quite . . . well endowed, aren’t they? And
extremely . . . agile.”
Kale threw back his head and
laughed. Then he kicked off his shoes and sat down cross-legged beside the tub.
“Sunny, exactly how experienced are you?”
“At what?”
He cocked his brow at her and
looked amused.
“Sexually, you mean?” Trying to
act blase, she shrugged. “Well, I’m not a virgin. But,” she added, waving her
hand toward the erotica on the walls, “I’ve never done any of that stuff.” She
waited the space of several galloping heartbeats before peering over the
wineglass she was clutching in both hands. “Have you?”
He only chuckled.
Suddenly she felt like an
absolute ninny, a naive sexual incompetent. Kale was a seasoned man of the
world, one used to women with a level of expertise far beyond her own. Her
know-how was limited to a couple of unsatisfying encounters and the information
she’d picked up in books. She’d always been too busy working and too focused on
her career to have much time for men. And darned nervous about health risks.
She was well informed, of
course, and certainly didn’t consider herself a prude, but from her paltry
experiences with lovemaking, she’d always wondered what all the hoopla was
about. Now she had a strong hunch that she was about to find out.
He took the hibiscus blossom
from his pocket and brushed the red petals along her cheek. Their gazes locked.
His pupils had expanded to endless black depths of mysterious allure that
beckoned her with a primal urge so potent that she ached.
“Shall we experiment together?”
he asked, his voice flowing over her like sensual oils in a harem room.
She swallowed. “Maybe we could
start with something simple.”
He handed her the hibiscus
flower, stood, and reached for the buttons on his shirt.
Sunny sipped her wine and tried
to act nonchalant as he undressed, tried to look everywhere except at him. But
like a compass needle drawn to north, her eyes kept veering in his direction.
He was tan, taut, and tumescent.