Love's Awakening (14 page)

Sucks
to
be
in
love
with
her.
Oliver could do it, of course—could pretend that his feelings for Celia were nowhere near where they really were. He
had
to. Celia was fresh out of a marriage and did not deserve the pressure of being with someone wildly in love with her. Celia needed a friend to help her get back in the swing of things, and Oliver was fine playing that role. Friends was all they
should
be. Plan B was just fine. But when it came time to end their liaison—yeah, that would be a harsh period. Oliver would not get over Celia quickly, but he preferred to be with Celia for this little time than never at all.

Remember
the
pros
of
not
being
with
Celia
for
a
long
time.
The
baby,
for
one.

Oliver heard the
skkkk-skkkk-skkkk
rattle of Shirley’s snores when they were halfway up the stairs. “That’s awful,” he said.

“Mmm,” Celia replied with a chuckle.

They tiptoed into Shirley’s room. Celia got the baby monitor and nudged Shirley awake. “I’m home.”

The nursery was painted light green. A wooden crib stood in the corner, but a bassinet decorated the middle of the room. A diaper changing table and Winnie the Pooh staples rounded the nursery out.

Celia went to the bassinet.

Please
look
after
your
little
brother
or
sister
after
I’m
gone.
Please
love
that
child
the
best
you
can,
and
please
tell
him
or
her
I
was
a
good
person.

Oliver surveyed the space, guilt knotting his stomach. He had avoided Caleb. Why? To punish his father? Or because he hadn’t felt comfortable with his stepmother? Both? Because he was afraid Caleb would remind him of two other babies?

Celia lifted the baby, held his face to hers, kissed him, and whispered soothingly: “Mama’s home.” Caleb was clad only in a diaper, and she patted his bottom. “Dry. For now. Hey, Caleb. Do you remember your big brother? He looks scary, but if you ignore the fangs, he’s pretty nice.”

Oliver forced a smile and prodded himself closer to the baby. He hadn’t come to spend time with Caleb. Nope. He’d come to spend time with the child’s mother.

Celia continued: “I’m not very happy with your brother right now. He cut my ass off and hung it up to dry at the bowling alley. You want him to teach you how to bowl? Yeah? So you can beat your poor mama too?”

“You’re obsessed with my bowling skills, aren’t you?”

“Two hundred and eleven!” Celia shook her head in amazement. “I want your autograph.”

A moment later, Celia lowered herself and the baby in a rocking chair. “This will take about twenty minutes.”

“All right.”

“Oh, hey, do you want to do it?”

“Some other time.”
Like
never.
Oliver sat on the floor and rested his back against the wall. Celia used a pillow on her lap for support. She wrapped her arm around Caleb’s upper body and held his head in the crook of her arm. He sucked on the bottle greedily. After a few minutes, Celia placed a cloth on her shoulder and burped him. “He needs to be burped every three ounces or so,” Celia explained. A few minutes later, she asked: “Why don’t you want kids? Or do you want them and say you don’t?”

Oliver scoffed. “Why screw a kid up? I’d rather use my time for other things.” Oliver wanted to add a “but.”
But
I
wouldn’t
mind
getting
to
know
your
son.
Not
because
he’s
my
half-brother,
but
because
you’re
his
mother.
Oliver turned the question back on Celia. “Why do you want kids?”

Celia grinned. “You know, I’m not sure. I didn’t want to get pregnant this early, if at all. I was doing so well at work, but David…” Celia sighed. “Your dad came home with a baby book and a story about seeing a cute kid at a park and how the kid reminded him of you. He wanted a baby, and…” Celia burped Caleb. “I didn’t mind. I wanted kids before I married him, so…I was excited about the baby. One of these things that just is.”

“Dad wanted me to, to, uh…to keep them. The children.”

Celia’s brow flickered. “Really?”

“Shannon wanted the adoption. I did too, but Dad said I’d regret giving up my rights. He said they were family and that he’d help me and Shannon. He’d hire a nanny or something. He said with his money, there was no sense giving the kids away. Shannon and I could still have our own lives, teenagers’ lives. I don’t think Dad ever forgave me and Shannon for giving them away. He’d come with me for visitations, but he never played with the babies. And, uh…he hasn’t asked about them in years. Not since I got back from Europe.”

“I’m sorry.”

Oliver shrugged. “Them’s the breaks.”

“How about Shannon’s parents?”

“I get the impression her mom played with the kids. Her dad…oh boy. He hated me. I stole his daughter’s virginity and knocked her up.”

Celia grinned. “I can see that. Hey, do you have pictures of the kids?”

“Yeah. I’ll show you when you’re done.”

“I’ll hurry up, then. Do you know any nursery rhymes?”

Oliver searched his brain and came up with fragments and snatches.
Strikkke!
“No. A line here and there.” He resolved to learn at least two nursery rhymes. He would impress Celia.

Celia hummed, light and melodic: “Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are!”

Caleb’s only sounds were gurgles, and Celia smiled and continued: “When the blazing sun is gone, when there’s nothing he shines upon, then you show your little light. Twinkle, twinkle, through the night. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are!”

Oliver got up. He felt like a mouse among cats. This was his father’s wife and child. This magic was meant for David, not Oliver. “Can I wait for you in your bedroom? Or somewhere?”

Celia betrayed no reaction. “Sure.”

“I just—I—I feel weird. Dad should be here. Not me.”

Celia rose from the chair. “Let’s come up with a rhyme together.”

They sat against the wall, and Oliver wondered if Celia was conscious of their legs brushing each other. Of their electricity. Oliver wanted to jump her.

“I’ll start.” Celia thought a few seconds. “Twinkle, twinkle, cows gone wild.”

Oliver snorted. “Cows gone wild? As in girls gone wild?”

Celia giggled. “That’s exactly right.” Her gaze held a devilish gleam, and she brought Caleb’s nose to hers. She sang: “Twinkle, twinkle, cows gone wild, flashing their boobies, oh what’s that, looks like a duck, nope, a plane, nope, oh, it’s the cows gone wild with their big boobies!”

Caleb grinned widely.

Oliver’s heart turned over, vibrated. God. No resisting Celia. He had never wanted to kiss her more.

Celia shot Oliver a sidelong glance. “Want to try a rhyme?”

“Sure.” Oliver found himself taking the baby. He held Caleb against his left arm, and the baby cooed. He was actually kinda cute. Smelled good, like powder.

“He looks like you,” Oliver said.

“You think?”

“He has your horns and the—” Oliver circled the baby’s nose. “See here. The hairy mole.”

“My mole’s uglier.”

“Well, yes. And hairier. I’m trying to be nice.”

“Such a gentleman,” Celia drawled.

Oliver brought Caleb’s face to his and kissed the child’s forehead. “I eat babies,” Oliver announced. “Hear that, baby? I am gonna eat you. Probably with lettuce and tomatoes. Glug glug glug!” Oliver pretended to chew Caleb. “Gonna eat you like this.” Another pretend-chew kiss.

The crying started low, like a keening—a gasp, gasp, wheeze, gasp but then Caleb reached back into his lungs and roared like a hurricane. His wails pierced Oliver’s eardrums and snaked down to his toes, but Celia’s expression held faint amusement. “Well, how about that,” she said.

“Guess Caleb doesn’t want me to eat him?”

Celia took her son. “Shh, baby. Shh.” She rose and paced the room. “Shh. Shh.”

A moment later, Shirley entered. She wore a limp pink sleeping gown and took the baby from Celia in an automatic gesture.

Caleb’s crying gradually downgraded to sniffling.

“Did you two have fun bowling?” Shirley asked.

“Yep,” Oliver said. “Ew.” He wrinkled his nose. “What’s that smell?”

Shirley frowned. “Now, Caleb. Did you make a stinky? Yes, yes, you did!” She cocked an eyebrow at Celia and held the baby out. “He’s yours.”

*****

In Celia’s bedroom, Celia tugged her shoes off. She flopped onto the bed. “Ugh.” She poked an eye open. Started laughing. Before long, Oliver was laughing too.

After their laughter subsided, Oliver wandered to the closet. He found one of his father’s shirts, a blue polo, and held the garment to his nose. The cologne scent was bracing. “Dad was worse than a skunk,” Oliver said. “Drove me crazy. How did you stand it?”

“Don’t know,” Celia mumbled.

Oliver hung the shirt back up and sat on the bed. “Tell me how you met my father.”

“You know how we met.”

“Yeah, I know that you interviewed him and the rest was history. I’d like to know more. The details. Your first date, all that.” A pause. “If that’s okay.”

Celia nodded reluctantly. “I was an assistant manager at Stacko. It’s like Staples.”

“Yeah, I know where it is.”

“We were having problems with the IRS. Audits, what fun. We needed a very specialized attorney. So, the manager, accountant and I interviewed a few people. Your dad went last. He was trying too hard to impress Mr. Peoples, the manager. Your dad’s voice was too earnest. He laughed a little too loud at Mr. Peoples’ jokes. Mr. Peoples had to take a phone call at one point. I leaned over and whispered to your father: ‘You’re trying too hard.’ David straightened and patted his hair defensively. He didn’t take my advice when Mr. Peoples returned.

“In the end, Mr. Peoples told David he’d decided to go elsewhere. On your dad’s way out, he reached for my arm. ‘Ma'am,’ he said. ‘You were right. I apologize. I’d like to take you to dinner tomorrow night and pick your brain.’ “

“Huh. I guess that’s kinda sweet.”

“Speaking of work, I’m slated for a milking job now. Will you wait a few minutes?”

“No problem.”
I
want
to
watch…

*****

Celia returned to find Oliver asleep on the bed. She studied the lines of his chest and his hips. The curve of his butt, the length of his thighs, the package between his legs, and Celia’s heart ached.

Oliver flickered an eye open. “Moo there. How’d the milking go?”

“My udders held up. They’re improving.” Celia hesitated. “Oliver?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I lay with you? For a few minutes?”

“It’s your bed.” Oliver scooted over, and Celia noticed that he was careful to keep a distance from her.

“I wish you could stay with me tonight,” she whispered.

Oliver looked away.

“I didn’t mean like that,” Celia said quickly. “I meant that—never mind.”

“I know what you meant.”

“Good, because I’m not sure what I meant. I, uh…guess what I’m doing tomorrow?”

“Meeting a nice herd of cows for chocolate milk?”

Celia laughed. “I have a doctor’s appointment to get a Depo-Provera shot. Birth control shot.”

Oliver swallowed. “I know what it is.”

Celia realized that their legs and ankles were touching. Just a bit. Yes, this was nice. Exactly what Celia needed.

“Depo-Provera,” Oliver muttered. “Good idea.”

Celia shrugged. “I mean, you know…yeah.”

Oliver glanced at the nightstand clock. “Hey, Celia, I hate to do this, but I have to get going. Early morning.”

Celia’s heart crashed.
Parole
is
over.
Back
to
prison.
“You said you’d show me the kids’ pictures.”

Oliver sighed. “Yep. I did say that.” He got his cellphone out. “The Thompsons. Mommy, daddy, their children.”

A handsome family greeted Celia. The mother and father were black, although the mother had almond-shaped eyes. Asian blood, maybe. The children,
Oliver’s
children
—Celia lost herself in them. Their smiles were identical, tilted to the right side. The boy looked a lot like Oliver, despite his dark skin. Looked a hell of a lot like Oliver, actually. Same eyes, nose, chin. Same full eyelashes.

“Erin looks like Shannon,” Oliver explained.

“She’s beautiful. They both are.” Celia reluctantly gave the phone back. “Well, I’ll walk you out. The living room is dangerous in the dark.”

Richard had left the lamp on, but Celia went outside anyway. The night was refreshing and nippy. A little wind. Celia planned to stay outside for a while after Oliver left. To think about Oliver. To get her bowling ball doll. Then go inside and rub the memories of Oliver’s touches into her pussy.

Celia and Oliver strolled the few feet to his car. “Good night,” Celia said. She glanced at the sky. Nice night. Lots of stars out, practically a different sky from the smudgy one right after bowling.
That’s
right.
Think
about
stars
and
not
about
how
much
you
want
to
kiss
Oliver.