Sunshine and Shadows (15 page)

He touched the fastening of her jeans, a question. She slowly reached her hands around and unsnapped them—her answer.

"Lisa," he said. "This doesn't have to happen today. Not if you don't want it."

She swallowed. Her mouth was dry, and her eyelids felt heavy. "I want to," she whispered.

He slid his hands slowly down her sides, following the lines of her figure in at the waist, out at the hips. His hands, his strong hands, rested there for a moment, then reached around her to urge her closer. She felt the springy hair on his chest brush her nipples, tried to swallow and couldn't. Then she was falling sideways with him, and the clean laundry that had been piled so neatly on the nearby futon was tumbling about their shoulders, and it smelled of wind and salt and sun, and it billowed around them like clouds. He was cradling her close, saying her name into her hair, and she was smiling, yes, smiling, so happy to be making love with him.

He kissed her—kisses blurring into kisses, kisses wafting into sighs, sighs deepening into moans, moans flowing into motion so that she didn't now where she ended and Jay began. The boundaries were no longer there; they were no longer two bodies and two spirits, just one body driving toward the same goal, harder and harder until, until, and it was enough, yet not enough, would never be enough as long as they lived. He cried out, then clasped her to him as though he would never let her go. She could hear his heart beating in her ears.

She spiraled back into the world and sank down into the sweet-smelling clothes, Jay on top of her, Jay around her, Jay beside her, drifting gentle fingers along the curve of her spine.

"Lisa," he whispered in her ear. "Lisa?"

She opened her eyes to look up at him. He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her to some soundless tune, but it was a song she already knew, even though she had never heard it before.

How could she tell him what was in her heart? Was it too soon? But how could it be too soon if she knew he felt it, too? If their two hearts were now one and would stay that way forever?

A voice inside her head—a very small voice—warned her not to think in terms of forever. How well did she really know this man, after all?

She had only to look at his eyes reflecting his total absorption in her, at his mouth smiling before seeking hers again, at his strong fingers splayed across the white skin of her breast; she had only to take in all these things to know.

"We're perfect together," he said, pulling her into the curve of his arms and easing his body along hers, until they were so close that they might have been fused.

"I know—I know—I know," she said in time with the beating of her heart, which felt brimming over with happiness.

And just like in the old movies that Adele loved to watch on TV, that was when Jay's cell phone rang.

Chapter 8

"It's about Connie," Sister Maria said without preamble.

Connie was the last thing Jay wanted to think of at the moment. He rolled over, the taste of Lisa's kisses lingering in his mouth.

He forced himself to turn his attention to Sister Maria. "What's wrong?" he asked, although the world of Yahola seemed very far away and he didn't want to know.

"Nina has thrown Connie out of the house," Sister Maria said.

Jay pulled himself to a sitting position. "Why?"

"I don't know. You know the woman—she's never cared anything about Connie. It seems they had some argument, and this morning Connie came to church crying her heart out. I immediately bundled her over to my office, where she poured out the story. Can Nina legally do this?"

"I'll find out," Jay said. Behind him Lisa stirred. She lifted his hand and touched her lips to the tips of his fingers. She looked sleepy and satisfied, and his first thought was
I can't leave her now,
but he said into the phone, "I'll come to Yahola right away."

"I'm sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I didn't know what else to do," Sister Maria said.

"You did the right thing. Connie may need a place to stay, so I suggest that you call Mrs. Daniels, the housemother at a group home for girls in Stuart—it's called Pelican House, and it's listed in the phone book. Find out if she has any vacancies. Can you do that before I get there?"

"Yes, Sister Clementine has taken Connie under her wing, so I'll call Mrs. Daniels right away. Thank you, Jay. I'll be in my office when you get here."

"Right," Jay said, swinging his feet to the floor.

When he replaced the phone, he answered the question in Lisa's eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I wouldn't leave for any other reason, but it's Connie," and he quickly explained.

"I'll go to Yahola with you," Lisa said.

"You don't have to. I'll drive you home."

"I want to help if I can. You don't mind, do you?" She seemed so concerned that he pushed Sister Maria's tale of woe out of his mind for a moment, combed his fingers through her hair and, his hand pressed to the back of her head, pulled her lips to his.

"It feels so good to kiss you," he said. "This should be one of those lazy Sundays where we stay in bed and touch each other, learn about each other, find out what works and what doesn't—"

"Nothing doesn't," Lisa said, her face against his shoulder. Her breath ruffled the hair on his chest.

"You're probably right, but soon we're going to find out for sure. I'm sorry, Lisa." He kissed her once more, slowly and regretfully, before pulling on his clothes. She watched, entranced by the way the slanting sunlight rippled over his ribs and feeling possessive of him: now he belonged to her.

He leaned over her and planted his hands on either side of her shoulders. "Would you like something to eat before we go? Getting Connie squared away may take a while."

"First I need to get dressed. And I'm not hungry."

He straightened and stood over her, and she made herself memorize the way he looked now, at that very moment. She wanted to remember this day for the rest of her life.

She reached for her clothes. "Give me time to repair the damage, and I'll be downstairs," she said.

"Okay," he said. "I'd better walk Hildy before we leave." He smiled over his shoulder as he left the room.

Lisa stretched luxuriously, glorying in the pleasure of being here in this sun-filled workroom, awash in the blue-sky smell of clean laundry and replete with love. She felt fragrant with the scent of their lovemaking, and she didn't think she had ever felt so happy.

She was thirty-one years old, and she had just made love with the man she was going to marry. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind.

She knew exactly what she wanted from the relationship.

But what does he want?
she asked herself, and she found no answer.

* * *

Connie and Sister Clementine were walking along one of breezeways of the school when Connie spied Jay and Lisa getting out of Jay's car.

"Jay!" Connie cried, running to him and flinging her arms around his waist. She sobbed against his chest, and Lisa stood helplessly to one side, unsure what she should do.

"Shh, doodlebug, it's all right," Jay said soothingly, stroking Connie's wild hair.

Jay handed her a handkerchief and Connie mopped her eyes, only then noticing Lisa.

"Lisa," she said, managing a smile. "I'm glad you came too."

Lisa pulled Connie close for a brief hug.

"Come along, Sister Maria is waiting for us in her office," Sister Clementine said, and the three of them followed her into the school.

When they were all seated in her office, a harried Sister Maria asked Connie to recount exactly what had happened that morning.

Connie hesitated, drew a deep breath and plunged ahead. She shredded a tissue with her fingers as she spoke.

"It started when I woke up around. I was pouring milk for the boys in a hurry because I wanted to go to early Mass, and I spilled some on the table. Nina came into the kitchen and started yelling. At first I thought she was only mad about the milk, but then she kept saying how I must have made Jay and Lisa stay outside and wait for her last night, and how I shouldn't have told them that she was gone when we came home, and lots of other things. And she said, she said—" Connie lifted tear-filled eyes to Sister Maria.

"Go on," Sister Maria said softly.

"She said I was a troublemaker and that I'm big enough to take care of myself. She said she was on her own by the time she was twelve, and that I don't need to go to school because all I'm good for is picking vegetables like everyone else."

"But—" Lisa said.

"Shh," cautioned Sister Maria. "Go on, Connie."

"Nina said that I shouldn't think I'm any better than the rest of them. And I should stop living in a dream world because it's stupid. She said—" Connie wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. Jay reached over and slid an arm around Connie's shoulders, and she seemed to take encouragement from it.

"She made me take my things and get out. She said if I think the future is going to be so great I might as well start living it and find out what it's really going to be like. I put all my clothes in a shopping bag and I went to the church." Connie's head drooped and the tears slid off her cheeks to her lap, where they left wet stains on her jeans.

"Don't worry, Connie, everything is going to be okay," Jay said.

"I don't know how," Connie said. Her expression was devoid of hope.

"Leave it to me. Remember, everything I say will happen will come true," Jay said, quoting her with a reassuring grin.

Connie's expression brightened, and when a solicitous Sister Clementine offered splashes of cold water from the sink in the teachers' lounge, Connie willingly followed her. When they had gone, Sister Maria looked at Jay and Lisa and shook her head.

"Can you imagine saying such things to a child? I shudder to think of what could happen to Connie. If she hadn't felt comfortable coming to us, she would have ended up on the street."

"I should talk to Nina. Immediately," Jay said through tight lips. The expression in his eyes was steely.

"Don't bother, Jay. I went directly to her house after Connie came here, and the other children were playing next door and said that Nina wasn't home. In any case, the immediate problem is that Connie can't go back there tonight," Sister Maria said with great finality.

"You're absolutely right. We can deal with the legal aspects later, but right now our job is to find someplace for Connie to go."

"I called Pelican House, the place you recommended," Sister Maria said. "Mrs. Daniels claims that they are already filled to capacity."

Jay thought for a moment. "Can Connie stay with you in the convent until we can find a place for her?"

"According to our regulation, we are not allowed to house children in our convent," Sister Maria said. "Connie truly has no place to go."

"She can come to my house," Lisa said.

Two pairs of eyes blinked at her in surprise.

"I mean it. Connie can stay there tonight and as long as she needs a place to live."

"But you already have Adele," Jay said.

"I know, but it's my house. We have an extra bedroom. Why shouldn't Connie have it?" Lisa began to warm to the idea. She had made her offer impulsively, but she began to see how it would work. She leaned forward in her chair.

"I come to the mission every day," Lisa said. "Connie could ride to school with me in the morning. After school she could work in the school art room on the panels for the dining hall and go home with me when it's time to leave. And—and I'd like to have her. I like her," Lisa said, looking from Jay to Sister Maria.

She watched Sister Maria make a steeple of her fingers while she considered Lisa's offer. "Well," Sister Maria said, "it would certainly solve the problem. Of course, we should ask Connie how she feels about living with you, Lisa, and we may have to make provision for Connie to visit her cousins occasionally."

"Do you really want to do it, Lisa?" Jay asked. He had known that Lisa was kindhearted, but what single woman would want to take on a child whom she barely knew, a child who would need, at the very least, a lot of love in order to overcome the trauma of being thrown away like a piece of garbage?