Stray (24 page)

I dropped Erin off at the coffee shop and found a parking spot behind another of the stores in the shopping center, planning to wait until Erin sent me a text that Ellyn had arrived before revealing myself. I knew I couldn’t leave her on her own for very long, because I hadn’t planned ahead very well. Erin didn’t know a thing about her Facebook doppelganger. By the time I got the text, I was about to crawl out of my skin, I was under so much tension. I drove back to the Starbucks and parked, gathered my courage and walked in.

Erin had done as I’d asked and taken the seat facing the door, so that Ellyn’s back was to me as I walked in. All I could see was her hair, curly like mine but long, and shot through with silver threads among the dark brown. The sight of those, the evidence of her age, hit me right in the gut.

When she’d left, my mother was a young woman. Now, though I knew from her pictures that she was still a vital, fit and young-looking woman, the twenty-two lost years pressed on me with a weight of sorrow that nearly undid me.

Erin looked up and saw me hesitating, gave a slight nod, and smiled at Ellyn. “Ellyn, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” she said. I nearly panicked. That hadn’t been in the plans! Before I could react, Ellyn, my mother, turned around to see who Erin was looking at. I saw her face change, knew that I’d been right to arrange a public encounter. All color drained from her face, and she muffled a small cry by pressing her hand to her mouth. What I didn’t see was anger. Deer-in-the-headlights fright maybe, but no anger. And then the tears started. “Jon,” was all she could say.

I hadn’t planned this, either, but I was there with her in two strides, catching her to me as she rose to meet me. I’d grown…of course. My mother felt frail in my arms, a petite, slender woman who was shaking with emotion. I held her, my own tears running freely down my cheeks. I risked a glance at Erin and discovered she, too, was overcome. She’d never looked more beautiful to me, than sitting there in that Starbucks, tears streaming silently from her eyes, her beautiful eyes.

It took a moment to compose myself, and then I gently pushed my mother away from me so that I could look at her face. This close, I could see what the camera never caught, the fine web of lines at the corners of her eyes, the soft edges of her jaw. She was what, fifty-eight? Fifty-nine? It hurt me that I didn’t know. What could I say to this woman, who was reaching blindly behind her to find her chair. I pulled it closer for her.

“Mom,” I said finally. “I love you.” Of all the things I planned to say to her, that wasn’t remotely the first. Seeing her so vulnerable tore it from my lips. Yes, I’d been hurt, confused, disappointed and angry, for over half my life. Still, I loved her. I knew it the moment I held her in my arms, and even more when I looked into her eyes.

It broke her completely, though. She slumped, put her hands to her face and sobbed uncontrollably. Erin touched my arm and looked around, signaling me that we were becoming a spectacle.

“Mom, would you go with me to talk somewhere else?” I asked. “If you’re uncomfortable here, that is.” It was cold, though sunny, and there wasn’t anywhere out of doors that would be comfortable, so I wasn’t sure where we could go. I had so many questions, so much to tell her, that I knew we had to do something.

“Yes, son. It’s time, I think. Let’s go to my house.” It turned out that she lived very close to where we were, in a small but elegant home in a nice gated neighborhood.

We didn’t even explain who Erin was before we left the coffee shop, Mom’s chai latte untouched. We followed her home and the three of us sat awkwardly, no one knowing how or where to start. Finally, Mother asked me about Erin.

“Is this your wife, Jon? What’s your real name, dear?” addressing Erin with her second question.

We answered at the same time. Then Erin fell silent, leaving it to me to explain the deception, and absolve her of wrongdoing.

“Erin is…a good friend,” I began. “Her real name is Erin Timms, but it wasn’t she who’s been corresponding with you on Facebook. I was doing that, and she knew nothing about it until a couple of days ago. I more or less begged her to meet you, so that you wouldn’t see me and run.” I stopped there, unwilling to ask the burning question that would sound like an accusation, but wanting the answer nevertheless.

“I see. I suppose I can’t blame you, Jon. To tell you the truth, I expected your father to find me years ago, since I hadn’t gone far. I can only assume he didn’t want to.”

My entire body jerked as I absorbed that revelation. “But, he looked for you for years! Hired private detectives, everything!”

“Really, dear? They must not have been very competent. I’ve been right here all this time.”

This news made me reel in confusion. Dad…that is, Theo Miles…told me several times that he’d spared no expense and couldn’t find her, that I should just forget her. What kind of father says that to a twelve-year-old? One that isn’t really the father, I supposed. But then, Doc said he looked, too. Why didn’t he find her? The answers I sought seemed only to beg more questions.

“Mom, I don’t know what happened. Maybe if I understood why you left, I’d understand why he would lie to me about trying to find you.”

“Do you really not know? He never told you?”

“No. He said he didn’t know, either.”

“Oh, darling. I’m afraid what I have to say will shock you. Your dad passed away a few years ago, didn’t he?”

“A little over three, yes. Surely you saw that in the news.”

“I don’t pay much attention, but a friend in Boulder sent me the obituary. I was sorry.”

Questions flooded me. A friend in Boulder? Wouldn’t that same friend have sent the list of graduates the year I graduated high school? Didn’t my mother care about anything I’d done? Before I could form any of them, Erin’s hand crept into mine and gave it a squeeze, which I returned gratefully.

“I suppose it’s only my story to tell, now,” Mom sighed. “I’m afraid it doesn’t show me in a good light.”

“Mom, if it makes it any easier, I know about the McGraws. Doc told me.”

“Dear Angus. I’ve often wished I could write to him, explain. He was away, you know, when I discovered I was…in trouble, they called it then. It wasn’t like it is now. Now girls seem to have babies out of wedlock all the time. But then it was a big deal, and I had a genuine problem. You see, I wasn’t sure who the father was.”

At my side, I heard Erin suppress a gasp. She’d known that there was a question, so I didn’t understand her shock. Mom continued with her story, needing no prompting.

“So Angus was in medical school, but Theo and Jamie were in Boulder and they were just getting their business off the ground. I’d been with Angus, of my own free will. I suspected Theo and Jamie of taking advantage of me at a party where I had rather too much to drink. I’m sorry, Jon. No one wants to hear that about their mother.

“When I told Theo I was pregnant, he more or less confirmed that he was responsible, and I guess he felt guilty. He married me, you were born, and things were fine, for a while. But then, you started to look more like a man than a little boy. We could see what you’d look like in eight or ten years, and Theo began to suspect that he wasn’t your father after all. He accused me of cheating. It was more than I could bear, Jon. He basically raped me when I wasn’t able to say no, and then accused me of cheating…because you looked like you might not be Theo’s son. We had a terrible fight, and he had a paternity test. You weren’t his. That’s when he and Jamie McGraw had their big fight, and it broke up their partnership.”

“Mom, I don’t understand why you didn’t take me with you and go after McGraw for child support,” I said, hating the whiny sound of my voice. I had never understood why she didn’t take me with her.

“Because, honey, Jamie had a paternity test, too. You weren’t his, either.”

“What?! Wait, Doc told me they had to have extended tests…his wasn’t conclusive…to distinguish between brothers. How?”

“I don’t know, honey. All I know is, he turned me away. I couldn’t live with Theo any more, Jamie wouldn’t have me, and I hadn’t seen or heard from Angus in more than twelve years. How was I supposed to support you? It took me five years, working as a waitress and going to school at night, to get my degree. By then, it was too late to be a mother to you. I just didn’t know any way to come back into your life.”

I was thunderstruck. The questions whirled in my mind, but I’d had too much informational and emotional overload already. I stood.

“Come on, Erin, we need to get back to Sunshine.” Erin stood, with a look of consternation. She didn’t say anything, though.

“Mom—Ellyn—I’d like to stay in touch. Can I friend you from my real Facebook account, so we can get to know each other? I’m sorry, I have to process all this. I still love you.”

At that, she stood and came to me, wrapping her arms around me though I kept mine by my sides and made no attempt to return the hug.

“Of course, Jon. We have a lot to catch up on, now that you’ve finally found me. I love you, too.”

I was numb when I walked out her front door, and numb when I got behind the wheel of my Beamer. By the time we made it back through Boulder and started up the canyon road, though, I was in a rage.

“Every fucking one of them lied to me, and she’s still lying!” I cried.

“Jon, how can you say that?”

“Did you hear her? She’s been on her feet and able to come and get me for seventeen years! I thought she didn’t love me, I thought I’d done something terribly wrong! I thought it was my fault she left, because my dad, I mean Theo Miles, gave me every reason to believe he hated me, too. And the only thing that made sense was that Mom had left because of me! The
bitch
.”

Erin put her hand on my arm, then possibly thinking better of doing that while I was driving, put it on my leg instead. “Jon, please calm down. Just get us home safely, and then you can come up to my apartment and break all of my dishes if you want.”

“What are you talking about?” I grated.

“Never mind. Just, please, slow down. Just get us home.”

The fear in her voice made me slow down and by the time we’d made it to her apartment I was more sad than angry. Or maybe it was confused. Hell, I didn’t understand any of what I was feeling. Erin invited me in, and I went, because I didn’t want to be alone.

“Do you still need to break something?” she said, with not a shred of humor. “When I found out about Greg and Dani, I broke every dish I owned. Feel free, what I’ve got now came from the thrift store.”

I had to laugh. Otherwise, I would have thrown myself on the floor and had a temper tantrum worthy of a two-year-old. “What am I supposed to think now, Erin?”

“Well, for one thing, if you can believe her, you now know that Doc is your father,” she said. I looked at her in wonder. I did, didn’t I? But, it didn’t add up. Not unless Doc had given a blood sample, and then wouldn’t he have known? I needed to have a serious talk with him, but not tonight. I couldn’t deal with any more drama tonight. I put my head in my hands and thrust my fingers through my hair, suddenly pulling it and roaring my frustration. And then, Erin’s fingers were there on mine, soothing me, and her soft bosom pressed into my forehead.

“God, Erin, I need something to be real, and good. I’m lost, adrift. I need a compass.”

Her hands went to the back of my head and pulled me closer, offering comfort that I desperately needed. I put my arms around her and clung to her, fighting sobs.

I
’d never seen anyone so broken. When we discussed his childhood, Jon was matter-of-fact about his mother, never letting on that he carried such grief within him. His distress affected me much as an injured animal always did. Whatever I could do to fix him, I would, regardless of the consequences to myself.

I couldn’t stitch up his heart, or put a cast on it or give him pain medicine. All I could do was offer the comfort of my touch. I put my fingers through his hair over his, to stop him from pulling it out by the roots. Leaned into him to offer a hug, although his hunched posture didn’t lend itself to that. His head came to rest against my breasts, and I pulled him in to let him know that was okay; I was there for him.

When his arms went around me, I felt protective of him. As if I were a stuffed animal that he could hold for comfort, and everything would be okay. When he began to murmur incoherently against my breasts, something changed.

For weeks, I’d suppressed my attraction to this beautiful, broken man. He didn’t deserve to be in my bed, not after what he’d done to Ashleigh. I knew he could do it to me, too, just as easily, if I allowed it. Well, I wouldn’t. I could be friends with him, but not a lover. Not until that moment.

I could barely make out what he was saying, but my name was on his lips. I stood, trapped in his arms while he clung to me, murmuring something that cried out to my heart, even when I couldn’t understand it. Slowly, I sunk, wriggling for space, until I was on my knees, our heads close together, his sliding up my chest, onto my shoulder. I lifted his face to me. Then I knew what he was saying.

“Erin, Erin, Erin. I love you, Erin. I can’t live without you. You’re my conscience. I’m not complete without you. Please, Erin, I need you.” Over and over, he repeated these phrases and more, all a plea, the cry of a wounded, desperate man in the wilderness of a mess that was none of his doing.

I  began to understand his anger at his mother, although I was certain it would dissipate when he was able to release the great pain she’d caused him. I couldn’t imagine a circumstance, not even a love triangle, or whatever the hell that was, that would make me abandon a child of mine.

To stop his wild babbling, I kissed him. I had to kiss him hard, because he was still trying to talk when my lips met his. After a moment, he kissed me back, thrusting his tongue between my lips with as much abandon as his inchoate declaration of his love.

When I became dizzy with the intensity of the kiss, I knew two things. I was fooling myself if I thought I could resist Jon forever. And the second thing was what would heal him, at least for now. The thoughts crashed together with inevitability. I would make love to Jon to give him some peace. And I would take as much pleasure from it as he would.

Jon’s hands trapped my head, holding me still while he plundered my mouth with deep kisses that wrung moans from me. My position in front of his open knees was beginning to be uncomfortable as he pressed toward me and bent my back from the waist.

“Jon, wait,” I managed to say before he pressed his assault again. “Bedroom,” I gasped, knowing a full sentence would be impossible. That stopped him. He pulled away from me with a quizzical look.

“Bedroom?”

“Make love to me Jon. Please.” I didn’t explain that I thought it would help him calm down, or that it was only the beginning, though I knew it was. His pain had torn open my resistance, made me abandon my resolve to keep him at arms’ length and touched me in a way that I knew I’d feel forever. “Please.”

With a look of wonder, he helped me to my feet, then rose to meet me, our bodies melding despite the fact that we were both fully clothed. I started correcting that problem as he followed me down the hall to the bedroom, stripping my turtleneck sweater over my head and throwing it back toward him. I didn’t look back, simply expected him to strip as we went, too.

I toed my boots off with difficulty, then hopped on one foot while I stripped off the sock and repeated the maneuver on the other side. My jeans were next, and by that time I was at the foot of my bed, where I stood while I shimmied out of the unzipped pants and shoved down the panties. In nothing but my bra, I scooted backward on the bed with Jon in hot pursuit, naked as well except for his socks, which he was trying to push off with his feet.

“You’re not naked,” he accused, after pinning me to the bed with his hands on either side of my head and a full-body press.

“Neither are you, technically,” I retorted. I wriggled until I could see down our tightly-entwined bodies to his feet. One sock was dangling from his toe, while the other was rucked around his ankle. I laughed.

Jon growled and rolled off me, reaching for his socks and tearing them off. I took the opportunity to reach for the hooks and eyes on my bra strap, but wasn’t fast enough.

“No!” he commanded. “Let me.”

I dropped my arms and leaned back on them, thrusting my breasts up provocatively. Jon bent his head to them, licking delicately along the margin between lace and flesh. One hand came up to pull down a cup, exposing the breast almost to the nipple. He kissed his way down to the target, then yanked the fabric all the way down and plunged his mouth over the taut nipple, sucking hard.

“Ah!” I half-shrieked. The sudden sensation was exquisite. I wanted to match on the other side. I arched my back even further, trying to give him the hint that the other breast needed attention. It worked. Soon my bra cups were tucked under my exposed breasts, supporting them as Jon licked, nipped and sucked.

I felt a trickle at my core and the rest of my body wanted to get into the act. “Jon,” I moaned. “Touch me.”

In response, he ran a hand behind me and with a deft move, flipped my bra open. Suddenly the tight constriction around my ribs was gone, and he pulled the bra off my arms, tossing it to the side of the bed before laying me down all the way. Then he supported his weight half on me, half off, and continued sensuously torturing my nipples while his hand crept to the center of my universe.

A finger found its way into my folds to dip into the slick juices. Oh, God, it was good! Slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, he pushed his finger all the way in, curling it up into my G-spot. I nearly shot out of the bed as electricity coursed through me. Helpless to delay it, I convulsed around his finger, clenching even tighter when the pad of his thumb found my hot button. The orgasm ripped through me like a tsunami, leaving me weak and shaking in its wake.

“You’re so beautiful when that happens,” Jon said, bringing me back to myself with a start.

“Jon, this was supposed to be for you,” I said, disappointed with myself for taking my pleasure without much thought for him.

“That
was
for me,” he answered, dipping in for another deep kiss.

I’d recovered a little then, though my inner muscles were still clenching uncontrollably. I needed to be filled, and I would be. First, though, I was determined to comfort him, whether or not he still needed it. I reached between us to find his manhood, hard, long and thick against my thigh. Slid my hand down the front of him, rolling my thumb across the tip, where a bead of moisture had gathered. Spread the moisture, swirling my thumb around his corona and giving a squeeze.

“Shit,” he moaned. “God, that feels good.”

“Well, if that feels good, then this must feel really good.” I slipped through his grasp until I was face to cock, so to speak. Flicked my tongue at the hot flesh licked it, reveling in the heady scent of male musk. With Jon making animal noises of pleasure, I took him in fully, opening my throat so I wouldn’t choke on his length. With my lips pressed to his groin and his length filling my mouth and throat, I
swallowed
.

“FUCK!” he shouted, as his cock stiffened and flared. Slowly, I drew all the way back, working him with my lips and tongue as he panted. Once again I plunged to take him all in. This time I was only halfway back up before he twitched his hips away from me, pulling all the way out fast. Roughly, he pulled me back up the bed, turned me on my stomach and rolled on top of me. When he backed off, I pulled my knees up and spread them wide, shoving my ass into the air and baring my core to his view. He took a second to position himself perfectly, the tip of his cock just barely parting my nether lips, before thrusting all the way in with a roar of what I could only identify as triumph.

And then all thought was gone, as he pulled back and slammed into me again, and again, until the pounding became my whole universe. I reached a zone of pure pleasure, grunting each time he rammed his big cock home, and squeezing in an effort to keep him there. Each time, he rested there for a few seconds, then withdrew almost all the way and slammed home again. With each blow, I felt my body tensing for a cataclysmic explosion, losing the edge as he withdrew, and then climbing toward it even higher with the next thrust.

I heard a moan begin low in Jon’s throat, build, and then escape as a roar when, with the last mighty thrust, he came, spewing hot seed within me and triggering that monster orgasm I’d been expecting. I shrieked, screaming, “Yes! Yes! God, Yes!” as the waves kept coming. At last, unable to hold my weight up any longer, I collapsed, which had the effect of pulling him out of my hot channel.

“Oh,” I said, disappointed.

“Never mind, love. If you can go again, so can I, in just a few minutes.”

For some reason, that struck me funny. Maybe I was giddy with the inconceivable pleasure, maybe I was drunk on the oxytocin released with my orgasm. Whatever it was, I found myself laughing and unable to stop. Every time I caught my breath, I lost it again, giggling until Jon sat up and threatened to give me something to laugh about besides his sexual prowess. I tried to speak, tried to tell him his sexual prowess was fine and then some, but then he was tickling me and it was all I could do to keep from peeing the bed.

“Stop! Stop!” I managed to gasp, and he stopped, but then he pulled my hand to him, and wonder of wonders, that magnificent cock was hard again.

“Oh, God! I can’t!” I moaned. “It’ll kill me!”

“I doubt it, but we can wait a while if you want.”

“A week?” I asked, beginning to see the absurdity in the whole episode.

“An hour,” he answered.

“Is this a negotiation?” I asked.

“Hmmm, could be.”

As it turned out, he was a better negotiator than I was.