Divine Solace: 8 (49 page)

Marguerite made a meaningful noise. Gen lifted her head. M
gestured to the nurse, who was tapping her watch with kind but firm purpose.
“Okay.” Gen glanced back down at Lyda. “You rest and get all better. The world
can’t run without you.”

She leaned down once more, pressed her lips to Lyda’s mouth.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Just wake up, so you can tell me and Noah if you
want to love us back. Either way, we need you to wake up.”

Lyda woke up two days later. When Gen and Noah were
discharged, they stayed at the Gatlinburg guesthouse. Dot’s friend had cleared
its schedule and made it available to them as long as they needed it. As soon
as Lyda was moved out of the ICU, one or both of them was always in Lyda’s
room, taking shifts to help care for her as she got stronger. Three weeks
later, after endless tests, the neurosurgeon confirmed there’d been no
permanent brain damage and Lyda was cleared to return home, transferred to the
care of a Tampa area physician during her recuperation.

As Gen had predicted, Lyda was a horrible patient. Irritable
and unpredictable as a wounded cat, Lyda was on the hit list of every nurse on
the floor by the time she was discharged. Gen suspected they threw a party when
Lyda was wheeled out the door, even though she and Noah had done their best to smooth
over her prickly moments.

It was ironic that a woman who made Gen and Noah do things
large and small when she was at full strength was so impatient having things
done for her when she was helpless to do them for herself. But Gen understood
it, and not just because she valued her own independence, or because she’d seen
the same qualities in Marguerite. When Lyda told Noah to bring her coffee, or
had Gen prepare her dinner, that was a mutual pleasure. Lyda enjoying her
powers as a Domme also satisfied Noah’s craving to be submissive, and
encouraged Gen’s fascination with exploring how far it all went for her. Having
to actually rely on someone for help? An entirely different matter.

Throughout all of it, Noah was predictably tolerant,
enduring any tantrum or the sharpest cut from Lyda’s tongue, for that was his
way. But Gen wasn’t built of the same stuff, and the time came when she’d had
enough.

It happened the day Lyda refused to take any pain
medication, despite the fact she was in such distress she was trembling, her
limbs jerking in a way even their formidable Mistress couldn’t control.

A red haze crossed Gen’s gaze, and before she could stop
herself, she slammed the bottled water down on a table. “I get it. You’re the
World’s Most Invincible Bitch. But could you pull your head out of your
egocentric ass long enough to realize how much it hurts us to see you in pain?”

Lyda was on a day bed they’d set up on the outside porch, so
she could enjoy the landscaping of her backyard instead of staring at the four
walls or enduring hours of daytime television on the couch. Gen stabbed a
finger toward the nursery, where she knew Noah was supervising the other
employees, tending the stock.

“The guy that doesn’t sleep because of his own demons has
done nothing but bust his ass for you since you woke up. Oh, after saving your
life, by the way. And just because you know he’ll take any level of shit from
you does
not
give you the right to shovel it on his head because you
can’t spring up like goddamn Lazarus from the dead. What difference is there
between Elias kicking him physically and you doing it emotionally, just because
both of you know he’ll take it?”

Lyda’s face whitened at that. Gen didn’t bother to curse
when she saw Noah appear at the opening to the porch, choosing that inopportune
moment to check in and see if they needed anything. But she was on a roll. She
wasn’t stopping now. Emotions erupted like lava from a volcano, accumulated
from the first day Lyda had woken up and it had started to look like she was going
to be okay. As long as she cared for herself properly, that is.

“If you can’t have the decency to do that, then think about
this.” Gen leaned over, inches between their two angry faces. “You can’t start
moving around the way you want until you’re better. These pills will help with
that. Listening to the doctors will help. God forbid, listening to us peons
will help. You want to stay in this bed even longer, you want to get worse,
ignore them and ignore us and keep doing everything your way. Because it’s all
about you anyway, right?”

Noah laid his hands on her shoulders, but she shrugged him
off, stabbed another finger at Lyda. “You don’t care how scared we were of
losing you. It never occurs to you that we hover too much because we wake up
ten times a night, having a nightmare about you slumped over that goddamn
steering wheel, not knowing if you were alive or dead. If any of us were going
to live through it.”

Lyda stared at her. She was still pale, but spots of color
were high in her cheeks. Clearing his throat, Noah lifted the bottle of water
from the side table. His other hand stayed on Gen’s lower back, fingers
stroking, sending a simple message.
Easy. It’s okay.
She was shaking,
tears threatening.

Lyda pressed her lips together, then she shook her head at
Noah. As he lowered the water, she lifted her unbroken arm. “Come here, fierce
rabbit.”

Gen wasn’t sure she was in the mood, but then Lyda’s eyes
did that thing they hadn’t done since she’d woken up. She got that Mistress
look, and a million things speared through Gen, breaking her to pieces and
putting her together at the same time.

“I said come here.”

Gen closed the distance, stepped into that armspan. Then she
was sitting on the edge of the bed, her upper body curled against Lyda’s,
because she’d pulled her down so Gen was lying against her breast. Lyda wrapped
her arm around her back, rubbed Gen’s hip. “It’s okay,” Lyda soothed.

Her chin brushed Gen’s temple as she gestured Noah close as
well. When he knelt next to the bed, laying his hand on Gen’s leg, Lyda ran her
knuckles along his cheek. He gripped her hand, pressed his lips to it. Lyda’s
eyes became suspiciously bright. “My pets,” she murmured. “My friends.” Her
gaze shifted to Gen, back to Noah. “My family. I’m sorry. I’m very bad at
this.”

“Understatement,” Gen said. “Selfish bitch.” Her arms
tightened around Lyda as she said it. Lyda pressed a kiss to the crown of her
head.

“I warned you about that at the beginning, didn’t I? Now,
you said something about it being time to take my pills.”

Gen pulled it together, though it took a couple deep
breaths. Swiping at her wet cheeks, she rose and retrieved the meds. Noah
unscrewed the water bottle. Lyda held out her hand for the pills, as imperious
as a queen who’d demanded them all along.

Gen placed them in her palm. Lyda swallowed them, then
opened her mouth wide, as if suggesting Gen would want to verify she’d taken
them. Eyes narrowing, Gen made a point to bend down as if she was looking. Lyda
snapped her jaw shut, gaze sparking. But Gen saw the haze of weariness take her
features. Sitting up for a half hour could still wear her out, so an intense
fight like that, short as it was, had drained her. Gen felt a twinge of guilt,
but given that it had seemed to clear the air somewhat and her point about Noah
had been received loud and clear, she couldn’t really regret it.

When Lyda slid down gingerly, adjusting her body to
accommodate all her aches and pains, Gen arranged the blankets around her,
putting pillows where she knew it would help her to be propped.

“I snore when I’m on my back,” Lyda muttered.

“Like a freight train,” Gen agreed. “It keeps us from having
to use a baby monitor. We can hear you in the kitchen.”

Lyda shut her eyes, ignoring her. Gen glanced at Noah and
stopped, catching a serious look on his face hard to decipher, but unsettling
in its intensity. Before she could delve into that, he’d turned and left,
headed back to the nursery. Lyda’s hand settled on her arm, squeezed.

“Fierce rabbit,” their Mistress said. A few moments later,
she was asleep.

* * * * *

That was the turning point. Lyda improved even faster from
there forward, especially when Noah planted the brilliant idea of treating her
road to full recovery like workout and diet goals. Though her broken and
battered body wasn’t quite as willing to cooperate with Lyda’s manic exercise
zeal, the change in focus did give their Mistress a pseudo-sense of control of
her healing process. It toned down some of her irritation.

Since their argument, Lyda had also treated Noah with such
gentle courtesy Gen almost suggested she backtrack a bit into bitch territory,
since she sensed it was kind of freaking him out. Or maybe that was whatever
was preoccupying him since that day. She tried to get him to talk about it, but
he shook his head, told her it was fine.

She wasn’t Lyda. She couldn’t make him talk when he didn’t
want to do so, and Gen had seen the dark terrain inside Noah even Lyda couldn’t
infiltrate. She knew Lyda wasn’t yet strong enough to delve into that realm, no
matter what Lyda thought. So Gen had to settle for hoping that, whatever was
going on, it didn’t fall in that territory.

They stayed busy enough she couldn’t turn her full attention
to it, regardless. In addition to Lyda’s care, she and Noah were running the
nursery. As she gained strength, Lyda gave them instructions on this or that
from a wheelchair or crutches, but it still made for busy days. Marguerite had
hired a part-time girl to cover at Tea Leaves, a Zone submissive who was a
friend of Chloe’s. Gen felt guilty about it only as long as it took for
Marguerite to set her straight.

“Lyda and Noah need you right now. Family comes first. Your
job is here, if and when you want it. Always.”

If and when
. Working at the nursery, Gen started to
have an idea of why M had put it that way. As she did the books and she and
Noah worked to cover things, it was as if she’d always worked there. She liked
learning about plants. Though he’d told her of his horticulture studies, she
was still surprised how much Noah knew about it, how much he’d enhanced his
knowledge with Lyda’s, and so she learned from him as well.

Once Lyda was strong enough to motor around in her
all-terrain wheelchair, Gen particularly liked looking out the office window to
see her directing Noah and her other employees in daily tasks.

As their Mistress’s body started to recover fully, so did
her intuition. Several times Gen caught Lyda watching Noah the same way Gen
did, with pensive consideration. Or maybe she wasn’t thinking about what was
going on with Noah as much as with herself, because once or twice Gen had
caught their Mistress looking at her that way as well. Which could be a good or
not-so-good thing.

Because she wasn’t sure she was ready to know which, Gen
didn’t push it. But she knew the day would come when it couldn’t be avoided
anymore. She had a feeling that wreck had been a turning point for all of them.

* * * * *

It was midafternoon. Noah and the others were out on
deliveries and job sites. Gen was watering the potted plants around Lyda’s
patio. Lyda was at the patio table, working on some orders. Gen watched her in
the corner of her eye. She now had a short crop of red hair. Still not long
enough to have any style to it, but it enhanced the sculpted beauty of Lyda’s
face, the strong character there, the slope of cheek and piercing strength of
her gaze, which rose as Gen spoke.

“Noah said Mr. Bergais really liked the oleanders. He misses
you delivering them, though, and hopes you’ll be back on your feet soon.”
Setting the watering can aside, Gen came to sit on the patio edge. Though Lyda
used a cane more now, she and Gen had a deal that she used the all-terrain
chair to move over the uneven ground in the backyard and nursery, so she was
pulled up to the patio table in it. Gen’s position put her right by the foot.
Reaching out, Gen fingered the petal on a spray of lilies, but that wasn’t what
she wanted to touch. Lyda was out of the cast, her leg bearing two oblong scars
from the compound fracture. Since Lyda was wearing shorts, Gen thought about
reaching out, tracing those scars. Touching the skin around them.

“He’s a nice man. One of my first customers.” Lyda put her
hand on the side of Gen’s face, let her knuckle trail down to her lips.
Wondering if Lyda had picked up on her thought, Gen looked up at her. The rest
of her stilled for a different reason.

Lyda wasn’t given to a lot of affectionate gestures before
the accident, but she’d started to do more of them since. Perhaps as a
substitute for sex, or maybe because of the change in their relationship. But
as nice as that possibility was, the way she was touching Gen now wasn’t driven
by affection.

Lyda studied her. “I’ve been watching Noah dig, haul water
and sweat in his jeans, sometimes with the T-shirt, sometimes without. Just
now, I felt like eating you alive when you were on all fours, pulling up weeds
around my petunias. Noah’s been watching you with that same kind of hunger.
He’s also tried his best not to look down my shirt when I’m in this chair, as
if somehow he’s required to stop showing sexual desire for his Mistress until
she says he can switch it back on again.” Her lips curved in a tight smile. “It
pissed me off, but I get he was trying to be considerate, so don’t fuzz up,
rabbit. He hasn’t been touching you, has he? You’ve been switching out sleeping
in the guesthouse, one of you on the couch, watching over me.”

“It seemed the way it should be. Didn’t seem right, if you
weren’t a part of it. If you didn’t say it was okay.” The air around them was
getting that still, dense feeling to it, the way it did when sexual desire
started to limit oxygen. Gen told herself this was too soon, not to push it.
Then her Mistress made it clear that she’d recovered enough that it was no
longer Gen’s call to make.

“My body may not be up to it yet, but I want to watch you
together,” Lyda said. “Tonight. After dinner.”

Gen had been so stressed and busy, she hadn’t let herself
give much thought to sex, but as Lyda catalogued how Gen and Noah had been
inciting her desire, a door in her own mind opened, surprising her with the
pictures her own brain had been storing about every opportunity missed.

Like the day last week she’d come to talk to Noah in the
guesthouse, and he’d been making himself breakfast. He was just out of the
shower, clad in nothing but a towel… Then there was this week, helping Lyda
with a bra that clasped in back, since the broken arm still didn’t move so well
for such things. Standing over her shoulder, Gen had watched Lyda adjust her
breasts in the cups, her shorn hair soft under Gen’s fingers as she dared a
quick stroke. She’d wanted to lean forward, press her lips to the side of
Lyda’s throat, let her fingers drop even lower, follow those curves, play in
the cleavage, cradle her breasts, explore the soft nipples until they weren’t
soft anymore… She wanted to feel Noah press his firm body against Gen’s…