Laura's Light (9 page)

“Fuck yeah, Trev,” JT added fervently. “Never understood why you try to hide it from me. We are your friends, and friends stand by you. You’re the first to jump in if we ever need anything. You publicly crucified the jerk that falsely accused Brodie of adultery on your show. We might not take the field anymore but we will always be a team.”

Trevor didn’t think he’d ever heard JT so poignant. Mandy really had opened up the man emotionally. Trevor felt as though a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Brodie’s and JT’s words were a balm, and they were right. Not only did he now feel his confidence to fight for Laura growing, but it also dawned on him that he was in a position to help others who suffered the same way he did.

He needed to do what Brodie had done. He needed to tell others who suffered depression that they were not alone. He had a high profile—his big mug was always on the television, beamed into homes across the country. If he could help just one person, give one person a helping hand, he could show that mental illness was not something to be hidden away. It was something you could openly talk about, a disease that could be managed with the help of the right professionals and maybe medication, just as he was managing his. It was his bloody
duty
. He could pass on the gift that Brodie had given him—life.

“Brodie, JT… I think it’s time I spoke up about mental illness. Time I owned it. I’m thinking a fundraiser, the money going to those groups already out there, especially the ones that help prevent youth suicide. Can I count you in? It may ruffle some feathers, cause you some uncomfortable press. My Dad’s going to have a stroke when he hears. But stuff him.”

“You couldn’t stop me, Trev. In fact, I have just the venue, and can even hook you up with some first-class entertainment. Caitlin would be thrilled to help any way she could. My wife has a heart of gold.”

“Count me in. Anything you need, mate. Guarantee I can hook you up with some of Mandy’s artwork and jewellery, as well. Her stuff sells like hotcakes,” JT quickly added.

“As long as it’s not those nudes your old man told me about, JT.” Brodie turned towards Trevor, an eyebrow raised in mock alarm as he whispered conspiratorially, “Apparently Mandy finds the big bugger’s body artworthy—
urgh
! Each to their own, I suppose, but really—JT?”

“Yeah, you’re a funny man, Brodes, fucking hilarious. But on a serious note, Trev, I was just thinking about
your
old man. Have you ever thought that maybe he has his own demons? Maybe the reason he is always so ‘glass half empty’ is that
he
has some type of depression? You know you probably inherited it from him.”

Trevor was blown away by the support that Brodie and JT were showing. The thoughts of Caitlin singing—obviously at Mia’s Restaurant—and having some of Mandy’s creations available for him to sell—
probably not nudes, though
—gave him a real lift. He could really do some good. If he reached out to some more of his mates he could come up with a really good money-earning night.

But it was JT’s comments about his father that really had Trevor thinking. Could that be the reason his father was such a hard man to please? Why his mother spent so much time and put so much energy into making her husband happy? It all fitted, even down to his mother’s reluctance to discuss his own fears with her. It must be a nightmare for his father. Trevor understood that people of his parents’ generation, especially the men, would never dream of reaching out, or of showing any weakness. The world would have eaten his father alive when he’d been young.
But maybe if we had all spoken about it together as a family
, Trevor thought sadly,
my life
might have been so much easier
.

Chapter Thirteen

Two weeks passed quickly for Laura. Life went on. Her business consumed a lot of her time and concentration, and Mitchell had even stopped hovering over her. The bitterness and empty feeling that had taken over from the jagged, lancing pain in her heart had receded to a manageable level—every now and again Laura would feel a sense of sorrow, but if she kept herself busy those moments were few and far between.

The worst times were at night, alone in her bed, when she would imagine Trevor’s hands touching her. The feel of his lips on hers, their tongues exploring, the feel of him entering her, pushing past her slick folds as they’d joined together. The fullness he had created in her body as he’d become part of her. During these times, she relieved her own needs. At first she tried to ignore the desire, ignore the heat, but after a few sleepless nights of tossing and turning, she found it easier just to give in to the hunger.

So night after night as she lay remembering Trevor, Laura would touch herself. She would let her hands roam across her breasts, down past her abdomen to rest at the apex of her thighs. At first she would touch herself lightly, just a flutter of fingertips, circling, stroking timidly, but as the heat escalated and the memories of her single night and half a morning of passion consumed her thoughts, her movements would become stronger, more rapid. She would plunge her own fingers into her wet depths, her breathing becoming more rapid. She would sometimes roll to her stomach and ride her hand. Press her clit hard into the heel of her palm, muffle the sounds in her pillow as she pressed down on the sensitive nub until she could ease the ache.

The pleasure was never prolonged, never rivalled what Trevor had ignited in her, but it was a release, and once it was finished, as she lay silently weeping, she would finally drift off to sleep.

As much as Laura tried to convince herself that she was acting ridiculous, that she should grow up and act her age—as she reminded herself over and over that there was no way anyone could fall in love in one night—Laura found that her heart disagreed with her brain. She had never known love, per se. Mitchell’s father had been more of a donation of sperm, a young girl’s mistake, than anything more, but this deep emotion that consumed her when she thought of Trevor left her confused. If this was love, then it was painful and she wished she did not feel it. Her love for her son was completely different. Easy. Light-filled, happy, maybe a little frightening at times, but all in all a much better feeling than those she now associated with Trevor.

It was that love for her son that had her standing in front of her wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear. They were going to a fundraiser being held at Mia’s, and Laura was terrified that she would run into Trevor. The thought made her stomach roll, caused goosebumps to cover her skin, but Mitchell had explained that he had been told by the Jets powers-that-be that his presence was required. He’d left Laura in no doubt that it was an order rather than an invite, but it still didn’t explain why
she
had to go.

Mitchell had all but begged her, so Laura searched again for something to wear, her actions slow and unenthusiastic, her heart not in it.

“Jeans? A dress? I have no idea what to wear.” She groaned.

“Here, Mum, I bought this for you.”

Laura was startled by her son’s voice, hadn’t realised he had entered her room. He usually knocked.
Thank goodness I’m not in my underwear
, she thought before comprehending what he’d said. He had bought her an outfit. How? When? Why?

“You bought me something to wear? Why?”

“I just wanted to cheer you up. I know you don’t really want to come tonight and I really appreciate the fact you are. Like I’ve said before, best mum ever! Here, take a look.” Rookie pushed the bag out towards her.

Laura looked at the bag. It had a designer’s name in gold on the fancy-coloured cardboard swing bag.
The bag alone looks expensive—goodness knows what Mitchell has spent buying anything from a shop as high-brow as this one,
she pondered, still clutching the unopened bag.

“Open it, Mum. If you hate it then that’s okay, you can wear something else, but I think this will really suit you.”

Laura could hear the apprehension in her son’s voice, and knew—as any mother would—that she would be wearing this outfit, no matter what it looked like on her. There would be no disappointing her son on this and if he had taken the time, not to mention the expense, to buy her something then she would wear it and smile.

Laura opened the bag a little nervously, trying to stop her hand from shaking. The first thing she noticed was the fabric’s unusual colour—it was not quite white, not quite toffee, but somewhere in between. She pulled the dress from the bag and let it fall to its full length. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It wasn’t just the colour of the delicate fabric, but also the design.

“Mitchell Harris, this is the most gorgeous dress I have ever laid eyes on. My goodness, son, if I’d known you were this good with fashion I would have made you shop with me more often. In fact, I’m never buying another thing without your input.”

“Mum! No! Don’t say that!” He laughed. “I’m glad you like it. Put it on. I’ll go get in my penguin suit. Can’t have my mum outshine the famous and incredibly sexy Rookie, now, can we?”

He chuckled and left the room, leaving a stunned Laura clutching the dress.

“Well, here goes nothing. Let’s hope it fits,” she told her reflection. She undressed and stepped into the dress.

“Oh, my!”

Those were the only words that would come out as she looked at the sight before her. The dress fit as though it had been made especially for her, fell deliciously over her hips and body. The fabric felt heavenly against her skin. She did a little twirl in front of the mirror and watched as the dress swirled, the light catching a gold sparkle embedded in the material. She felt like a princess—a forty-two-year-old princess, but a princess nevertheless.

The gathered fabric over the bust enhanced her figure without being overly suggestive, and the straps were delicate over her shoulders. It was as if the dress was enchanted. Laura felt her spirits soar—she felt beautiful. She felt confident. She was now looking forward to her outing, and all because of a dress her son had so thoughtfully provided.

“Forty-two going on twenty-one.” Laura laughed as she did another twirl. “You are totally ridiculous! Shoes—I need shoes.” She started rummaging through her closet. “Stop it, Laura. It’s a dress. It’s still you underneath it—don’t let it go to your head. Remember what happened last time you got caught up in a fantasy?” she admonished herself sternly, but was still unable to quash the beauty of the dress, and the thrill she felt at wearing it.

When Mitchell returned—this time Laura heard his knock on the door—she was ready to go. Her hair and makeup were done, and she had an appropriate pair of stilettos on her feet.

“Mum, you look amazing,” Mitchell said as he entered her room. “Ready to go?”

Laura gazed upon her son, handsome—stunning, in fact—in his black dinner suit. He looked amazing, that was no lie, and not just because he was her son. He looked dressed to kill, all grown up, mature beyond his years.

“Son, you are by far the most handsome escort I’ve ever had.” She felt a lump in her throat and refused to let the tears of pride ruin her makeup.

* * * *

The trip to Mia’s Restaurant took no time at all. Laura was impressed that Mitchell drove carefully and slowly, not forgetting that it was his mother sitting next to him. As they pulled into a parking spot just a little down the road from their destination—the street was already packed with cars—Mitchell turned to her, his look as serious as his tone.

“Mum, do you trust me? Trust that I would never do anything to hurt you? Trust that I love you?” he said solemnly.

Laura couldn’t help the panic that invaded her mind. Just the serious tone of her son’s voice was enough to set alarm bells ringing in her ears. “Of course I do, Mitchell, why do you ask? What’s wrong?” Her reply was immediate.

“I just want you to remember, okay? ’Cause I think in a few minutes you are going to need to remember that.”

Mitchell’s reply was unsettling. Laura didn’t understand what her son was saying, but she knew without doubt that she did trust him.

No matter what.

It was just as well, because the second they entered the restaurant Laura understood her son’s worry. Not only had the whole night been organised by Trevor Hughes, but she and Mitchell would be sitting at his table. Her only comfort was that she was buffeted from him by Caitlin and Brodie James on one side and Mitchell, JT Thompson and Mandy on the other. She was in such a state of shock over the nightmare that she missed Caitlin speaking to her and had to ask her to repeat what she had said.

“You look gorgeous, Laura. That dress is divine—where did you get it?”

It took Laura a few moments to gather her thoughts and answer, but finally the words came, her voice sounding calmer than she had expected. “Thank you, Caitlin. It
is
a beautiful dress—Mitchell gave it to me. You look quite stunning yourself, but then again, you always do, honey.”

Her emotions were in such turmoil over the idea of spending the night in Trevor’s company. She’d also had the horrifying thought of how she would cope if Trevor had a date, and her conclusion had been ‘badly’—imagining some young, sexy catwalk model on his arm was enough to make her want to vomit. As Laura answered Caitlin she did a quick headcount of chairs and realised that there was a spare, which indicated her worst fears were highly possible.

“Seriously, are you telling me a man picked out
that
dress?” Caitlin asked. “My goodness, wait till I tell Brodie. Sit down, Laura—here, sit next to me. It’s just the gang at this table. Oh, and Riley, of course—he’s just running a few errands for Trevor. This is Trevor’s show tonight. I’m so proud of him. He is very brave to speak up about his struggle with depression, don’t you think?”

For Laura it was just one blow after another, while she was relieved, eternally grateful that the spare seat was for Caitlin’s brother, Riley, and had not been set aside for some beauty queen of Trevor’s, she was equally shocked by Caitlin’s explanation of the night’s purpose.
Trevor suffers from depression? Why did he not say anything before, tell me? I guess one night together doesn’t really call for that sort of information
, she thought sadly.