Falling Again (11 page)

“Oh, my ankle. Right.” She rotated it under the sheet. “It hardly hurts at all and it doesn’t feel swollen. The ice seems to have worked wonders.”

“I’m not sure it was the ice. We shouldn’t discontinue the other treatment until we know for sure what helped. It’s one of the things my mother the doctor taught me.” He brought her closer, his erection against her as he nuzzled her neck.

“Sex is therapeutic?”

“Not with anyone, just with me.”

She believed him.

Eventually she suggested breakfast and called dibs on the first shower. By the time he’d had his turn; she had dried her hair, wrapped her ankle in an elastic bandage, and was wearing a green cotton robe.

He glanced at her then at the towel he had wrapped around his hips. “If robes are the dress for breakfast, do you have one I could borrow? Preferably not the one with ruffles in the bathroom.”

“I have an old terry cloth one in the back of my closet. It will be a little short but should probably work.”

He went into her walk-in closet and came out with a brown and cream striped cotton robe. “How about this one?”

That one? The one I never wanted to see again? How the hell did he find that one?
She grabbed it from him. “Not that one. I didn’t mean…it’s not…you can’t…” She threw the robe into the back of the closet, found the terry cloth one for him, then turned away.

He put the robe on, tied the belt around his waist and came up behind her. “I’m sorry. What upset you?” He put his hands on her shoulders and attempted to turn her around but she shook him off. “Fiona, what’s this about? Tell me. Please.”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. Just a big mistake.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and started for the hall.

“Wait.” He grabbed her by the arm. “You can’t just cry and leave the room.”

“I’m not crying.”

“Of course you are. Tell me what I did so I won’t do it again.” This time when he tried to turn her around, she let him.

“It’s just, like I said, a mistake. You didn’t do anything.”

“It’s hard to believe from your reaction.” He tilted her chin up but she refused to meet his eyes. “A mistake?” He paused for a moment. “Was the mistake what makes you keep the shades down on those eyes and made you decide you needed body art?”

Shaking her chin free of his hold, she put her forehead on his chest and felt him wrap his arms around her. “I’m not good at serious discussions before I have coffee. Can we have breakfast?”

After a few breaths he said, “Okay, let’s have breakfast,” and followed her to the kitchen.

Not sure she could actually make omelets with him watching her so intently, she suggested he put some music on and pointed him in the direction of the living room shelves where she knew he’d find distraction. And, indeed, after he rummaged through what he found, he called into the kitchen, “I can’t believe you have all these old records. Where’d you get them?”

She came out wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Most of them belonged to my parents. They got rid of their turntable, got an iPod and downloaded their music from the ‘60s and ‘70s from iTunes. I love old vinyl, scratchy sounds and all, so I took the records before my mother could throw them out. And I add to them when I find something I really like.”

“Some of them look like they could be worth something.”

“No, my father had a dealer go through them. They’d been played so much, the records and especially the album covers weren’t in good enough shape for collectors who, apparently, want mint-condition albums.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Probably Crosby, Stills, and Nash.”

He held up the
Déjà Vu
album. “I must have sensed the vibe.”

“Wrong vibe. You’ve got Crosby, Stills, Nash,
and Young
.”

He flipped through a few more albums and came across the right one. In a few minutes, the sounds of “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” came from the four speakers around her living room.

While they ate the omelets she’d made, they talked music: Fiona’s favorites from her parents’ youth—Simon and Garfunkel, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Chicago, Bob Dylan, the Eagles. How her mother and father had been arguing for years over who was better, the Beatles or the Stones. She confessed she went to all the old guys’ reunion concerts and loved them even if they couldn’t hit the notes as well as they did when they made the records she owned. Nick shared about the music he’d come to love visiting the Caribbean and Asia and urged her to listen to Yo Yo Ma’s
Silk Road
albums.

They finished their coffee and Fiona collected the plates so she could wash them. She was about to get up from the table when Nick reached out to stop her, broaching the subject she had hoped had been forgotten. “Fiona, before you do the dishes, can we talk about what happened in your bedroom?”

“I guess I owe you an explanation, but I’m just not sure…” She shook off his hand and took the dirty plates to the sink. He followed her. She stood for a moment with her back to him and then turned with a sigh. “I’m sorry I freaked about a bathrobe. Not exactly the reaction you expect the morning after an amazing night, is it?”

“It was a little surprising.”

“It’s just…well, you were right. He…the guy who owns…wore…the robe is the one who…well, he...” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know how much detail I want to get into.”

“I’m not looking for details; I just want to understand what’s going on.”

She collected her thoughts then said, “The nut ‘graph is, the guy who owned the robe, who said he was in love with me, who I fell for pretty hard…” She paused, picked up her coffee mug, and took a gulp. “This guy, after we’d been together for a few years, moved to Seattle to marry the woman he’d been engaged to most of the time we were together and who was the mother of a daughter I didn’t even know he had.”

“Fucking asshole. I’m sorry something I did brought it all back.” Nick put his arms around her, saying softly, “Why’d you keep it?”

She didn’t answer because she didn’t know what the answer was.

“Never mind. But I can take it with me, if you’d like, and get rid of it for you.”

She shook her head, not meeting his gaze. “No, thanks. I have to…I’ll take care of it myself.”

He let go of her and kissed her forehead. “Just so you know, you’re not alone in the bad relationship department. I don’t have any tattoos to show for mine and, in my case, it’s my fault, I guess.”

“You don’t have to do this, Nick.”

“You were honest with me; I’ll be honest with you. About a year ago, the woman I’d been with for awhile, a videographer I’ve worked with a lot, broke it off because I was, and these were her exact words, more interested in getting a good angle for my shot than I was in making our relationship work. The last straw, she said, was when I cancelled the fourth plan we had for going away together because a good assignment came up. I had no idea she was keeping score. And I thought she understood about my job. But she was, she didn’t, and she was pissed.”

Fiona nodded. “The old ‘you don’t love me as much as you do your job.’ I’ve been there too, with a guy I dated when I first worked for
Willamette Week
and was trying to impress the editor. I thought Robe Guy was different. He was another reporter and understood my job.”

He pulled her closer again and kissed her gently. “Thing is, she wasn’t the first to call the issue to my attention. I haven’t been exactly the best guy to be with.”

“It’s okay, Nick…”

“No, it’s not. Because I don’t want to be like that with you.” His hands on her shoulders, he caught her gaze with his and said, “This—whatever’s going on between us—is…well, I don’t know what it is. But it feels different. I want to find out what it is. Do you?”

She buried her head in his shoulder so he couldn’t see the fear in her eyes. “I don’t know. I’m scared of those kinds of questions.”

“We’re great together.”

“Yes, we are.”

“So, do you want to find out what it is?”

She answered by pulling his mouth to hers, her hand on the back of his neck. The kiss started out sweet and gentle but rapidly moved to something more intense—something deep and passionate. She was about to say she didn’t know how to answer him with words when the phone rang.

He held her to keep her from picking up the receiver and shook his head, but when her phone announced the call was from Margo Keyes, she insisted. “I have to take it. Margo and I had tentative lunch plans today and she’s probably calling about it.”

“Can you reschedule? I’d like to spend the rest of the day with you.”

“Let me see what she has to say.”

As soon as Fiona answered the call, Margo launched into an explanation of how she was stuck at work making preparations for a trial on Monday and asking forgiveness for begging off from lunch.

“It’s okay, Margo, don’t worry. We can have lunch some other time.”

“Thank you. We can reschedule after this trial’s over. I’ll call you later this week and let you know how it’s going.”

Nick had come up behind her and was kissing the back of her neck, his hand under the front of her robe caressing her breasts. She pulled away from him, mouthing, “stop it” before responding to Margo. “Next week. Right. Good. How’s Tony, by the way? I didn’t get much chance to talk to him at Higgins the other night.”

“He’s fine. Well, except someone told him a real Oregonian recycles everything. So, now he inspects every wastebasket before I dump it to make sure I’m not throwing out something recyclable. It has the potential to become wearing. Otherwise, life’s good.”

Fiona laughed but before she could say anything, Margo continued. “Oh, I almost forgot, Amanda called last night asking if I knew where you were. I think she was actually looking for Nick. She said he was shooting alone on Mt. Hood and she was concerned she couldn’t reach him. After the conversation at Higgins you’d think she would be embarrassed enough to leave it alone, but I guess she’s not.”

“Amanda needn’t have worried. Nick didn’t go to Mt. Hood alone. I went with him. And I imagine he’ll call her soon.” She motioned to Nick who headed for the bedroom.

“Because…”

“Because what?”

“You imagine he’ll call her soon because he’s there with you and heard what you said?”

“Something like that.”

“And Amanda couldn’t reach him last night because he’d turned his phone off so the two of you wouldn’t be interrupted?”

“Something like that.”

“So that’s why you were so gracious about my cancelling our lunch. Now you can spend today with him, too. But since I don’t want to hear ‘something like that’ again, I’ll refrain from saying it in the form of a question. Now I
know
we need to reschedule. Soon.”

A few minutes after she wound up her call with Margo, Nick came back from his phone call to his sister.

“Did you pacify Amanda?” she asked.

“I think so. She knew—or said she knew—you were with me so she didn’t really need much calming down. She asked us for dinner tomorrow with Margo and Tony. I said yes because she didn’t give me a lot of room to say no. I hope you don’t mind. Our assignment is to bring an appetizer.”

“No, it’s fine.” She chewed her lip as she continued. “So, we’re definitely outed.”

“They saw us at dinner at Higgins. She knows I’m with you now. You said you wanted to be honest with her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I know. But now it’s real and I’m not so sure.”

He moved close to her and pulled on the sash of her robe until it came untied and slipped his hands around her bare waist. “You, lady, are hard to please. But maybe I can convince you it’s okay.” He kissed her and put his hands on her bottom, pressing her hips against his. She looped her arms around his neck and he kissed her again; this time he did the nibbling on her lips. She made little noises at the back of her throat when he played with her tongue, molding her body to him.

When he started kissing his way down her cheek and neck, she said, “If we keep this up, I won’t have any skin left anywhere tomorrow. I already have whisker burns on my face, my neck, my breasts, and other places I’m afraid to look.”

“Next time I’m there, I’ll let you know.” He kept on kissing her, now reaching the top of her breast.

“You’re terrible.”

“Am I?” His head came up, on his face a look of mock surprise.

“No, actually, you’re wonderful.”

“I’m relieved. But I promise I’ll be more careful.” To demonstrate he could be, the kiss was gentle but no less intense as his mouth lingered on hers and he held her close. “Maybe like so?”

“Oh, God, Nick, when you kiss me I don’t care if you sand off the whole upper layer of my skin.”

“I had something in mind a little less like cosmetic surgery or wood shop.” He released her from his arms. “We could see what we can work out until it’s time for me to change clothes and get my other camera. I want to get some shots from Mt. Tabor at sunset tonight. Want to go with me?”

“Today I think I’d follow you to the moon.”

“I have a closer destination in mind,” he said as he pulled her toward her bedroom.

“Mommy, I think it’s Uncle Nick. Can I open the door?”

“Wait ‘til I get there, kitten.”

Fiona and Nick could hear the conversation between his four-year-old niece Kat and her mother after they rang the doorbell. Kat wasn’t supposed to open the door unless there was an adult with her, but it didn’t stop her from asking every time if she could.

When the door was flung open, Kat threw herself at Nick.

“Uncle Nick! Did you bring me a present?”

Amanda started to reprimand her daughter but Nick headed it off by picking up his niece and hugging her before handing her a small bag.

“Of course I did, Kat. I brought you a Balinese dancer from Indonesia.”

While Kat tore the bag to get at the present inside, Chihuly, the family’s curly coated retriever, joined the welcoming party, sniffing at both Nick and Fiona, wagging his tail when Fiona petted him.

Amanda kissed Fiona’s cheek and said, “Please forgive my daughter. Nicky has her spoiled. He brings her a doll from each place he visits.” She turned to her brother. “Hey, baby brother, how are you?”