Adirondack Audacity (34 page)

Following him to the water’s edge, I slip my arms
around his waist, hugging the warmth of his sun baked
flannel shirt, a flicker of fear grips my heart. “I need you
too,” leaning into his body, I lay my head on his chest.
He closes his eyes, and his face creases as if he’s in pain.
“Do you think I’m going home and leave behind Esteban
Diago? Do I look like an idiot? I’ve been a nun for almost
two years; it wasn’t fun.” I start a little enchantment of
my own, playfully nipping and kissing at his neck and
chest. “I love you, but if our teenage years taught us
anything, we need to be cautious. I have a son waiting for
me, a classroom of students, Jack’s family, please don’t
rush me.” My hand teases the waistband of his jeans,
hinting of more magic to come. “In two years I can quit
with twenty five years of service. I’ve worked hard to earn
that bonus. I love my job but now I have……options.” I
run my hands up and down the muscled plane of his
chest. “Some
very
nice options.”
“Two years!” He explodes, shaking his head in
disgust.
“I’m not saying we stay apart for two years. Let’s take
it month by month. You go to your movie shoot. I’ll
return home, get Trey off to college and start the school
year. When you finish filming, I’ll meet you or you come
to New York. I have Gran’s cabin, no chance of the
paparazzi lurking in the woods there.”
“That is such a long time. Come on location with
me.”
“I don’t want to distract you. In the article, I read that
when you take a part, you immerse yourself in the role,
you think, talk, dress and literally become the character.”
“I’ll just immerse you, as one of my wenches,” he
leers at me. “And
that
will be an Oscar winning
performance.”

Not two weeks; or four, or even the unimaginable six
…try ten impossibly long, lonely weeks translating into
seventy days with
no Vic.
What’s the good of having a hot
boyfriend, if he’s on the other side of the world? Vic’s
filming schedule put him on some remote island. God
only knows where; with no cell phone connection…...is
there
really
such a place left on earth? Our communication
shifted from erratic to sometimes…..erotic. I never
understood phone sex before but
….
the sound of his
voice over the phone…..sets everything south of my
navel tingling.

To be apart so soon after our explosive reunion has
put me in a tailspin. One minute I’m ecstatic in love, then
paranoid he’s fallen for his new co-star, to outright panic
over a future with a movie star, who happens to be
incredibly
hot.
The problem is…he wants me to leave my
family, my friends, my home
,
and the only life I’ve ever
known to build a future with him.
Whew!

Not only is this taking an emotional toll but also a
physical one as well. I have no appetite; the sight of food
makes me nauseous. I’m exhausted, yet toss and turn,
sleepless at night, then drag my tortured body to school
only to come home and crash on the couch for three
hour power naps, waking up at seven p.m., disoriented
and starving for ice cream and
Twinkies.
I’m a lovesick
teenager living in a middle-aged body. This can’t go
on……. I don’t have the stamina.

As fall merges into winter, Thanksgiving week was
circled on our calendars, no matter what, we would meet
at the ranch. With Trey off on a ski trip with friends and
Lani spending the holiday with Jason’s family, I’m free to
join Vic. So after ten weeks of separation the plane
descends into the small private airport near the ranch.As
the wheels hit the tarmac Ike comes into view leaning
against the Land Rover, arms folded, legs crossed, face
shaded under a cowboy hat. To avoid the paparazzi and
protect my privacy, Ike will drive me to the ranch.
And…there is nothing like the sight of a Celtic warrior
cowboy to dash away the memory of a turbulent flight
over the Rockies. It’s the Irish and cowboy
together……that rare eclectic combination that sets any
girl’s radar on high alert.
Giddyap.

“Ahh, there she is, at last.”
Ike envelopes me in a one
arm hug while taking my bag from the flight attendant.
“Good flight, ehhh?” Growing up near the border one
learns the charming Canadian quirk of adding “ehh” to
the end of their sentences. It makes me feel at home.

“It was
a bumpy ride over the mountains, but two
glasses of wine and half a box of imported chocolates
took the edge off my nerves.” I brush loose strands of
hair out of my eyes, feeling the delicious warmth of the
California sun on my shoulders. A welcome change from
the cold rainy weather back East. “And I’ve never flown
on a private jet, and not wanting to offend the hostess,
when she offered, I said yes……to everything.” Which
explains my queasy stomach, I feel a little green, I pray I
don’t look green, green woman don’t turn men on and
I’m done with phone sex.

Ike chuckles and takes me by the elbow, steering me
across the parking lot.
“Boy, have we missed you.”
“Oh, thank you.” Ike likes me…I think…. I wasn’t
sure after our meeting on the beach that first night.
“Listen, living with Vic this past week has been hell;
he’s like a polecat with a burr in his paw.” Ike launches
into his explanation, propelling me along like he can’t get
me to the car fast enough. “Bridget threatened to quit,
I’m thinking of joining up on a freighter again, Hank
hides in the back shed, and Vic’s ridden Diablo to
exhaustion. Even the horse avoids him. We can’t take it
anymore, you have to save us.” He tilts his hat back
revealing a brush burn down the side of his lean face. “I
got this four wheeling with him the other day, just trying
to keep up. I’d rather face a grizzly bear in early spring
than go back to the ranch without you.”
“So he really missed me?”
Ike stops dead in his tracks, peers at me over the top
of his sunglasses, eyes narrowed, looking at me like I’m
deaf, dumb, or just plain stupid. “Did you not hear a
word I just said?” He asks, an incredulous look on his
face.
“Well, yes, but I’m still a little insecure about his
feelings for me. He’s surrounded by beautiful
sophisticated women. I don’t know how to compete in
that world. I’m a middle age school teacher, and the only
cosmetic work I’ve ever had done was a pedicure.”
Ike laughs, causing his amber eyes to sparkle. He is so
handsome when he smiles. “Ellen, he loves you. Don’t
sell yourself short; you’re a beautiful talented woman.
And not everything that glitters in Hollywood is gold.
Underneath all the hype, it can get real ugly.”
“Oh,” I smile, feeling some of my insecurity fall away.
Vic loves me, Vic loves me;
plays over and over in my head.
“Come on, we don’t want to keep him waiting, and
Hanna is coming this weekend. Then all hell will break
loose. I’m her godfather and love her to pieces, but God,
that girl’s a whirlwind.”
Ike tosses my bag in to the back hatch and walks
around the vehicle to open my door, he hesitates before
asking, “You’re here to stay? Right?” He points to my
luggage. “That’s an awful little bag. The rest of your
things….are being shipped?”
“Ummmm……no.”
His eyes shoot daggers at me. “What do you mean;
no?”
“I’m just here through the weekend. I have to go
back after the Thanksgiving break.”
“What!....... oh, no way, you have to stay or you’re
taking him with you. We can’t take anymore of him
mooning about, snapping everyone’s head off.”
“Ah……we haven’t worked out the details yet. I
want to finish out the school year. And I was hoping for
us to slowly transition into each other’s lives.” I shrug my
shoulders as I click the seat belt in place. “Go back and
forth for a while……...?”
“Shit...” The expletive hangs in the air as he climbs
into the driver’s seat and throws the car into gear. Tires
screech as he guns the accelerator, the force throws me
back onto the seat as he executes a U-turn on the tarmac.
Abruptly he signals and pulls onto the highway. His
hands are white knuckled as he grips the wheel. He seems
angry. So much for him liking me…..and I think I have
whiplash.
There’s silence in the car as Ike concentrates on
driving the curving road as it twists and turns through
canyons and mountain passes. I sit quietly, chewing on
my thumbnail, dying to ask a thousand questions. Finally
I break the ice, slowly asking…… “So how is he?”
Ike shrugs, “What do you mean?”
“Aside from all the mooning around business, is he
okay?”
“Never been healthier, never looked better, never had
so much money.” He looks at me suspiciously. “You
aren’t one of them gold diggers, are you?”
“Good God, no!” I retort indignantly.
“Only teasing.” Ike’s head doesn’t turn, but the
corner of his mouth twitches up ever so slightly.
Whew
“I just need time, to get to know him again,
it’s……been awhile. You’ve lived with him for years.
Maybe you can help me understand him.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bite your head off, not
much of a welcome.” Ike’s voice softens. “Vic and I, we
go way back…we watch out for each other, so when I see
him upset, it bothers me.” He looks over at me and grins
ruefully. “And I haven’t seen him this worked up over a
woman;; in I can’t remember when, I just don’t want him
to get hurt.” He pats my knee, and for a fleeting second,
his amber eyes burn into mine. “He needs you, Ellen.
That’s all you need to know.”
I nod. No one can answer my questions but Vic. But
Ike says
he loves me…
and for now that’s enough.
We drive for a while without speaking; golden hills
punctuated with green trees sprawl out into the distance
on either side of us. At length Ike turns on the radio. The
Beach Boys are playing “California Girl”…how
appropriate, California girls are more
fun
than east coast
girls…
great
…and as we zip along with sunlight glinting
off the windshield, I suddenly feel like we’re in another
country and for me another life.
The drive seems endless and my excitement grows
with each passing mile, finally the gate to the ranch
comes into view. Pulling down the visor mirror, I check
my makeup, add a touch of lip gloss and fluff my hair to
look deceptively casual. Not exactly cover girl material,
but not ready for AARP either, I’ll look spectacular in
candlelight.
My “she’s too hot for me, mama” pink nail polish
peeks out of open toe sandals with three inch heels. The
tight skinny jeans have spandex, clinging in just the right
places. A slinky red sweater with a push up
bra…....bottom line….this is as good as it gets.
My heart’s hammering in my chest. I feel faint, either
overcome with desire or nerves. I’m not sure which one.
With maddening slowness, we pull in front of the massive
wooden doors leading into the house. And I see Vic…
standing silhouetted in the doorway…looking impossibly
handsome in a white linen shirt half tucked into jeans that
hug his hips like a second skin, bare feet, hair tousled, just
on the edge of disheveled…God, he looks good. A wave
of longing hits me like a punch in the gut, and I realize
how much, how very much I’ve missed him…
I fling open the door, and sprint up the steps before
Ike comes to a complete stop.
“Dang it, woman!” I hear Ike yell, the car skidding to
a halt. “You’re going to kill yourself.”
I run through the entrance and jump onto Vic,
wrapping my legs around his waist. In one swift
movement his hands cup my butt, lifting me, and as my
arms cling to his neck, he slowly whirls me around and
around, his lips searing my skin with desire. All the pent
up frustration of the past ten weeks lies forgotten in the
wild spontaneity of our reunion. Between kisses, he
breathes, “Elle, Elle,” touching my lips, neck, eyes, ears,
anointing me in his love.
The scent of him is turning me inside out. We
stumble into the hallway of the empty house, laughing
and kissing, gasping for breath in a state of unbridled
passion. His hands slides under my sweater and my
fingers fumble with the buttons on his shirt feeling the
hard ridge of muscle beneath my hand. With one deft
movement he pulls the sweater over my head and releases
my bra. The sweater falls in a jumble to the floor. He
slowly spins us around in small circles, my hair forming a
shimmering veil down my back in the dim light. The
warmth of his skin on my breasts causes my nipples to
tighten and tingle, my mouth peppers his face, neck and
shoulders, tasting and devouring every inch of him.
“Vic, what about Bridget, shouldn’t we…um…..go
somewhere more private?”
“Gave her the afternoon off, she and Hank went to
town for a movie.” His kisses trail down the side of my
neck.
“Oh, I’ve missed you so much.” I brush back his dark
hair, basking in the glow from his eyes. “But what about
Ike?”
“Missed you more,” And not missing a beat, he
continues, “Ike plans to spend the evening in his
apartment out in the barn; there’s some Canadian hockey
game he wants to watch.” He stops the slow turning to
kiss me. His clever hands run up my body, I’m weightless,
floating above the ground. He is so close I feel every part
of him, pressed against me.
“I can’t believe it’s been ten weeks.” His warm breath
trails down my throat to dwell in the curve above my
breasts. “I’ve waited so long for you, I was going crazy.”
He buries his face in my hair, “I missed the smell of your
hair, the sound of your voice, your cute little butt.”
He laughs, giving my ass a squeeze.
“I know,” I caress his cheek. “Just hold me, promise
you won’t let me go. For the next nine days, I’m going to
eat, sleep, and do other
naughty
things in your arms. We’ll
be attached at the hip.”
“Maybe we should investigate those possibilities in
the bedroom, or I’ll just take you here on the floor.” He
threatens. I grind my hips into his torso; his body stiffens
as he groans in my ear. “Bring on the naughty;; and I
especially like the attached at the hip part.”
“Look how long your hair is,” I lean back in his arms,
tucking a stray lock behind his ear. “Very warrior like.” I
pull the silky length into a ponytail. “Can I tie it back with
a leather thong? Mmm, very sexy. I’ve never been ravaged
by a warrior.”
“It was for the movie, it fit the character. I left it for
you to see. I thought you could help me cut it.”
“I don’t know.” I’m intrigued with the idea of the sun
bronzed warrior returning from a successful campaign,
the fair maiden clutched to his chest as the spoils of war,
astride his battle hardened stallion. “Let’s leave it long for
a while.” I push the hair away from his neck finding the
sweet spot on his collarbone with my tongue. Dark, deep,
chocolate, with a hint of bourbon, some things get better
with age.
Then to our shock and horror, comes...“Mr. Vic,
when Ms. Ellen arrives, just to let you know, dinner is in
the refriggggg…....” The whirling dervish known as
Bridget comes flying around the corner. “Oh, my good
Lord! Would you look at the two of you! Can you not
wait until ye get into a bedroom, and protect the rest of
us from your philandering ways?” Bridget shrieks,
throwing her hands up in the air.
Shit.
That woman has
got to slow down. She stops frozen in shock at the sight
of Vic and I entwined, half naked in the foyer.
“Hello, Bridget.” I call out to her, my laughter
muffled against Vic’s shoulder. “How are you?”
“Oh, just wonderful, Ms. Ellen,” she says, her voice
laden with sarcasm, standing with her hands on her hips
shaking her head. “Welcome back, it’s good to see
you…..I just don’t need to see as much of you as I do at
this moment.” She makes a harrumphing noise in her
throat. “I’ll leave the two of you…to whatever. Food is in
the kitchen, help yourselves. Hank and I are
leaving.……after I scrub out me eyeballs.” She calls,
vanishing toward the back of the house, the heels of her
shoes making disapproving clicks on the tile floor. The
sound of her voice trailing behind her, “Saints preserve
us, the way the two of them go at it, tis worse than a band
of horny monkeys, titch.”
We dissolve into laughter. “I think we had better
move this party upstairs.” Vic chuckles against my hair.
“Horny monkeys.”
And the laughter starts again. I cradle his face in my
hands, “Hey, take this monkey upstairs.” And as he
carries me up the stairs, two at a time, being in his arms,
in this house, feels right………like I’ve come home.
…
It was one of those days, Thanksgiving morning
dawned cold and rainy. A day to start with muffins, fresh
from the oven, coffee, strong and hot, laced with Irish
crème. A lazy day spent curled up by the television
watching the Thanksgiving Day Parade, cheering when
Santa dressed in royal red comes waving down Fifth
Avenue. With the muffins and coffee in hand, Vic and I
planned a long morning on the couch, playing peek-a-boo
under each other’s clothing during commercial breaks.
But no. Bridget fully recovered from the shock of
seeing my nearly naked body……insisted I help her cook
the Thanksgiving dinner. Complete with
all
the
trimmings.
What?
Somehow she decided my cooking
skills or lack thereof, to be a disability and rehabilitation
started this morning.
rats
So instead of a morning lounging on the couch,
Hanna and I spent the day slaving away in the kitchen. I
mean, a Stoffer’s turkey dinner and a bag salad,
constituted Thanksgiving in my house.
The holiday season is off to a shaky start, missing the
first official viewing of Santa is unheard of in my world
…….and I
hate
to miss a good game of peek-a-boo.
The table groans under the weight of our efforts, yet
after all the work to prepare the meal, I’m left with no
appetite. In fact, the sight of the table laden with food
makes me nauseous. Ordinarily, I have an excellent
appetite and I’m seldom fussy about what I eat. Maybe
that’s why I don’t cook; all that energy goes into making
food and not enough left to eat it.
After the last piece of pumpkin pie disappears,
Bridget refuses to let us help her with the dishes. She
didn’t want anyone mucking up her kitchen. She and
Hank have plans to go over to a friend’s house for the
evening and she has no time for amateurs getting in her
way.
Thank God.
Surviving a day with Bridget has formed
a common bond between Hanna and me, a shaky truce at
best, but a start.
Vic and Ike are sprawled out on the sofa, beer in
hand, enjoying a friendly argument over a football game
on television. Ike stands up and points his beer bottle at
Vic saying, “I don’t care how long your hair is or how
dark your skin is, you ain’t no Indian. And you don’t
know shit, sorry Hanna, about the Washington Red
Skins. I’ve got the stats on my computer, I’ll be back to
prove you wrong.” He turns to leave the room. Vic signs
the letter L over his forehead at Ike’s retreating back.
“I saw that, and just for that you can get your own
beer. Who’s the loser now?” He sets his beer bottle
down, and holding up his hand, he rubs his fingers
together, “Want to put a little money where your mouth
is, Kemosabee?”