Cries of Penance (21 page)

I hold up fingers as I start counting off. “Our room, Enrique’s room, a nanny’s room, the boys’ room, the girls’ room, and the nursery. Seven bedrooms seems like a lot until we real y consider what we’re looking at.”

“Enrique?” she asks skeptical y.

“I wil have to rein in Enrique’s more risqué behavior, but I can’t imagine moving without taking him with us.”

“You’re right. He’s part of our family. He has to come.” She wraps her arms around me and hugs me tighter than she ever has. She whispers, “I’m so scared.

What if he doesn’t come back?”

I kiss her, holding her face. There isn’t anything I can say or do to reassure her. She rearranges to straddle me without breaking the kiss. Being of the same mind, I push down the front of my pajama bottoms only enough to free my erection. There is a honeyed sweetness to it when she lowers herself over me and takes my length inside her.

She rocks over me quietly, gently.

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I can’t remember the last time I was forced to be secretive or quiet. Our joining seems most naughty. She giggles, and I think she is thinking the same thoughts.

“Sh-h,” I whisper against her face. I lift my hips to meet her soft motion.

“We can’t get caught, I’l die of embarrassment,” she admits softly. “I just need you so badly.”

“I know. Me too.” As the pleasure builds between us, I final y have the strength to admit to her, “Everything is going to be okay, sweetheart. No matter what.”

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“Each player must accept the cards life deals him or her: but once they are in hand, he or she alone must decide how to play the cards in order to win the game.”

Voltaire, 1694-1778

I try not to think about Thomas, or the preparations he made before leaving. I can’t bear to think of him not coming back to us. I’m exhausted, mental y and physical y. Thankful y, Hektor and Sophia wil start school on Monday, even Nikkos is starting pre-school, leaving me only Athena-Sophia to care for during the daytime.

Garrett left me alone with them while he went to look at the house Thomas told us both about. I’m not sure who was happier, him or the real estate agent, when he cal ed this morning to arrange a showing. They determined to meet an hour later and although Garrett wanted me to go too, I saw everything I needed to see online. There are enough bedrooms that however everyone gets arranged, I wil get to sleep with Garrett.

When Olympia and the two little ones conk out on sofas for their mid-day naps, I find myself with a young shadow. Hektor has been bored a lot lately.

Getting crayons and paper, I sit with him at the kitchen table.

“I heard you cal Olympia Amira last night. Is that a middle name or a nickname?” I have a sneaking suspicion it is Arabic. The more I learn about the children’s last two years it seems Latisha wanted to erase their identities.

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“It is her desert name. I was cal ed Halil, Olympia was cal ed Amira, Nikkos was Naji, and Athena-Sophia was Ayah.”

“That seems very confusing.”

Hektor shrugs. “A name is a name, each place you dwel gives you the opportunity to be someone other than you were before, a better person.”

“Who taught you that?”

“Papa,” he answers, intent on his coloring.

“Your mother was half French, did she talk to you in French?” I ask hopeful y.

I real y need a common language to try to get closer to Athena-Sophia. The constant wavering between smiles and wails of frustration is wearing on al of us.

“Does Athena-Sophia speak French?”

“I think some, but Athena-Sophia rarely talks.”

“Wel , you are amazing,” I assure him. “How many languages do you speak?”

“Five. I think. Not a lot in some of them. I am best at English and Greek, but after we left the United States our mother only spoke to us in French or Arabic.

But there is a difference between the desert Arabic and the Arabic in Egypt. So that’s five.”

“Wel , you have me beat. I speak English, French, and some Spanish but very little.”

Hektor laughs. “Hola! Yo hablo engles? Hablo poco español. Podemos ser amigos?”

“Yes, I think we wil be very good friends.” I tousle his hair. “Your Spanish is very good. Much better than mine. You could say that you are wel on your way to knowing six languages. You are very smart.”

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Hektor beams, eyes sparkling. He draws swirls on a piece of paper that I think is Arabic script. “What does this mean?”

He blushes. “It is a house blessing. To keep you safe.”

“Thank you.” I ruffle his hair, overcome by his sweetness. He seems so much older than seven, but then he’s been through so much. I can’t imagine how difficult it is for him, sliding between cultures, torn between parents, and now both parents gone. I hide my emotion by starting lunch.

Garrett returns as we are finishing up, finding Enrique loading the dishwasher and me sweeping. He takes the broom and pul s me into a hug. “We have a new house.” He hands Enrique the broom. “Watch the kids? Cartoons, popcorn, you can handle them for an hour, right?”

The kids love Enrique, he loves them, and as sure as I am of that leaving them alone makes me nervous. “Are you sure about this?”

“We’l hurry back.”

It’s hard to not get caught up in his excitement and enthusiasm as we race across town. “You aren’t going to believe this place. It’s the penthouse times ten, and my God the view of the bay and the bridge!”

Pul ing into the driveway, he presses a garage opener and we pul inside. It’s a three car garage, no more parking garage. The inside garage entrance leads directly into a walk-in pantry and then the kitchen. He waves a hand dismissively.

“I’l redo it, it’s fine.”

As I take in acres of granite, I can’t imagine what he needs to redo, but it’s his kitchen and I know it isn’t even close to his standards. It seems like we’re running 197

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a marathon as he leads me through the dining room, living room, out onto a deck that overlooks the backyard and the bay and the bridge. “It’s breathtaking.”

“But not the best part.”

We go upstairs and he pul s me down a long hal way, pointing through doors.

“Bedroom, bedroom, bedroom, bedroom, bedroom, bedroom.”

We’re both out of breath as we take the elevator up. We exit into a smal er but stil big room. He points as we walk. “Second living room, office.”

Opening a double door he leads me into a palatial room. “Master bedroom.”

Our gazes col ide, and we both smile. Neither one of us has to suggest it, we start tearing off our clothes. There isn’t a bed or single piece of furniture. The carpet is a luxuriously, sinful shag. As I drop to my knees, I ask, “Is this fur?”

“It feels like fur,” he agrees as he rol s me over and pushes me back. He buries his face against my mons. “God, I’ve missed you. I was beginning to think we’d never have sex again.”

As he licks the slit separating my labia, I ask, “Is parenthood always like this?”

“Not for people who can afford real y big houses and a nanny.” His lips vibrate against my clit, tickling.

“Two nannies,” I remind him then moan as he sucks my clit into his mouth.

“God, oh God, I’ve missed this.”

I enjoy oral—a lot—and as Garratt licks and sucks and bites, it seems like I am transported to a different realm. My entire body becomes languid, but also alive. My skin seems more sensitive. I want touched. Al over. I encourage him to run his hands over my thighs. I hug myself, teasing my fingers up and down my 198

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arms. And when I can’t take much more, I squeeze my breasts, pinch my nipples, stretch them out.

“God!”

Garrett knows exactly the right moment to slide his fingers inside of me, knows just how fast and how deep to pump me. He forces my orgasm to its highest pinnacle, then holds me there. I scream, anticipating the spiraling fal , but somehow…somehow…he holds me adrift, and just when the pleasure seems to take me to the brink of insanity, he al ows me to fal into the spiraling chasm of petite mort.

* * * *

“She has her own bed.” Garrett grumbles about Athena-Sophia lying between us.

“Hektor says she’s used to sleeping in the tent between several bodies. I think we’re going to have to give her some time to get used to things.”

“Put her in her bed or she’l never learn.”

“You put her in her bed.” I think every muscle in my body hurts even though I real y didn’t do anything. The movers did almost everything. God, how can I be this tired?

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It seems like a dream as I listen to Garrett, trying to get the baby out of our bed into her own. She fights to get out of his arms, reaching for me. “Non, non, non!”

“Athena-Sophia, you learned a new word!” Garrett praises her. I crack open an eyelid in time to see her smile beatifical y as he carries her from the room explaining, “You are such a big girl. You can sleep in your brand new big girl bed tonight.”

Her screams carry through the wal s and a few moments later Garrett carries her back into the bedroom. Her bottom lip is pouted out. “Non! Je suis un bébé!”

“She speaks French,” Garrett informs me.

Evidently.

Athena-Sophia pats her chest. “Atso est un bébé.”

“Atso?” Garrett asks.

Athena-Sophia beams and pats her chest. “Atso.”

From the other side of the bed Olympia and Nikkos pop up. “Can we sleep in here too?”

Garrett does his best to glare as al three children wiggle under the covers.

“You know what this means?

“We may never have S-E-X again?”

“Exactly.” He growls, turns out the lights and crawls back into bed. “We real y need a nanny.”

“Two nannies!” I agree, knowing that there would be no way one woman would ever agree to the responsibility of six children.

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Unexpectedly Garrett’s cel phone rings. It isn’t late, at least not that late, only nine or so, but stil . I’m party to a one-sided conversation which leads me to believe he’s needed at the club. “I can’t possibly leave right now. What happened?”

I sit up, turning on my bedside lamp when he leaves the bed. Pacing, he runs his hand through his hair. I lose track of the conversation when he leaves the bedroom and goes into the walk-in closet. He returns with a suitcase. “I’l catch the next plane.”

What? Plane? My heart skips a beat as my thoughts turn dark. God. Thomas.

Please let Thomas be okay.

Garrett looks from me to the kids. “We have a new problem.”

I hold my breath not wanting to know. I don’t want to know anything. I rub the spot on my abdomen where it’s tender from one or both of the babies kicking me.

I close my eyes when Olympia hugs me tightly. She’s old enough to know something’s wrong. I return her hug and kiss her temple, remembering what it feels like to be young and scared and unsure about what the future wil hold. Not even knowing the problem, I whisper, “It’s going to be okay.”

I meet Garrett’s gaze, praying hard that Thomas is stil alive, and am thril ed when he tel s me, “My mom needs me.”

I’ve never been so relieved. Cincinnati I can handle. Thomas hurt or worse, I’m not going to be able to deal with. I kiss Olympia again, hugging her closer.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart. Nothing we need to worry ourselves over.”

When I return my gaze to Garrett I know my nonchalance has hit a wrong nerve with him. What does he expect? I can’t worry about one more thing.

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Whatever is wrong in Cincinnati it has absolutely nothing to do with us or our life here.

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“This is what is hardest: to close the open hand because one loves.”

Friedrich Nietzsche

Cincinnati , Ohio

Standing on my parents’ front porch with a white–knuckled grip on my luggage, this is not the homecoming I imagined. I hang my head, not real y knowing what I’m walking into.

I’ve spent the entire flight, thinking about Kitten. I can’t believe I left her at home, with Thomas’s four children, and potential y going into labor at any time. I don’t care what Dr. Wang has to say on the matter. Few women carry twins to ful term and that has me so worried I can’t see straight.

I begged her to come with me.

I can’t show up on your parents ’ doorstep eight months pregnant with four spare kids in tow.

She was right, of course. Now isn’t the right time, not with things the way they are, but wil there be a better time? How wil I know when that time is? It’s not like I can keep my family a secret forever…

Wel , I could, what’s one more secret?

The problem is that for the first time in my life I want to share my happiness.

The happiness without the chaos. Damn it, Thomas. Wil the drama ever end?

Eva. Nikos. Now Lattie.

Seriously, when is enough enough?

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I imagine Celia having the same thoughts right now…about me. I left her with four children straddling two residences. I wish the moving truck hadn’t already taken al of our furniture to the new house. I told her to leave the unpacking until I get back to help her. She sure doesn’t need to be doing anything more than she’s doing.

I decide with sudden clarity that I want to marry her, suburbia and picket fences aside. Forget normal. I want what I have with Celia right now. She is my family. And Thomas. And the children, regardless of how many children. It isn’t insanity. It’s our life. It’s the way it’s supposed to be.