touch (33 page)

Beatriz, ever the helpful, whispered, “Can Morik give me a
ride home since I missed the bus?”  Across the distance, I caught his slight
nod.

“I’m sure he can.  I’d rather walk,” I admitted.

“I figured.”  She grinned and took off her jacket.  Smiling
we traded.  She skipped down the steps toward him.

He lifted my helmet, offering it to her when she
approached.  Beatriz played it for what it was worth and lifted her chin in a
bid for him to put it on for her.

I shook my head amused by her and started home.  The winter
air ran its frosty fingers over my exposed skin.  At first, I welcomed the
touch.  By the time I spotted my house, my cheeks flushed with cold, I no longer
enjoyed being outdoors.

Morik’s motorcycle sat in the driveway and I knew he cheated
to beat me home.  He opened the door as I stepped onto the front walk.  His
eyes, swirling with yellow, followed my progress and I managed a reassuring
smile that probably lacked luster.

“Bea get home okay?”

He nodded and stood aside to let me pass.  Helping me from
my jacket, he leaned close and whispered.  “I never want to feel your pain
again.”  His voice shook with emotion.

I never wanted to feel my pain again either.  As soon as I
freed my arms from the sleeves, I wrapped them around his waist.  He gingerly
embraced me in return.

“I’m okay,” I promised, enjoying the feel of his hard chest
under my cheek.

Gran cleared her throat nearby.

Lifting my head, reluctantly, I met her amused gaze.

“Not much time to do homework,” she noted.

On the off chance I actually lived beyond seventeen, I
really did need to keep my grades up.  Sighing, I loosened my hold on Morik and
drifted over to the table.  Morik helped Gran finish dinner preparations while
I worked through calculus.

Each time I looked up, I found his focus not the food he
prepared, but on me.  I enjoyed his attention.  With him, I didn’t feel
desperate or trapped like I did with many of the boys my age.  Probably because
I knew any serious time with me could kill them.  Morik represented hope for a
future that didn’t involve my husband’s imminent death.  Thinking of him in
terms of a husband gave me a moment’s pause.

My focus drifted away from my textbook and the words on the
page danced chaotically.  Each generation Belinda’s line produced at least one
child.  If I successfully chose Morik, it completed the deal.  It should then
mean additional descendants to my line were no longer needed.  But were they
wanted?  I recalled his reaction when he’d misunderstood what I meant when I
asked what more he wanted before Christmas and drifted once again into
confusing relationship territory.

Morik met my curious gaze when I looked up.  Ask or don’t
ask…  I considered the very real possibility of a short life and decided to go
for it.

“Will we…  Do you…” I had his complete attention.  He titled
his head at me as I hesitated trying to figure out how to word my question.  “I
mean… are we going to have kids?”

Gran turned slowly her mouth slightly opened in surprise. 
Her gaze played ping pong between the two of us.

Morik’s eyes darkened.  He didn’t move at first and I felt
decidedly uncomfortable.  Maybe I’d found a line.  Unsure how to take the
question back, I sat there slowly turning a lovely shade of crimson.

Finally, he reached up and ran his fingertips along one of
his horns.  “Given our differences, I think it unwise to attempt such a thing.”

Gran’s color matched my own.  I’d keep any further questions
to myself.

He blinked himself beside me, leaning close to my ear. 
“Having you is enough for me,” he assured me in a whisper and kissed the tender
skin just below my ear.

My heart skittered from his touch and his words.  The tingle
spreading up my spine surprised me.  Not an extension to the mark, just a good
feeling.  I smiled at Morik, darting forward to catch his lips.  “Thank you.”

We both heard the car in the driveway and broke apart.

Saturday approached with painstaking deliberation.  Ahgred’s
mark on my back mended slowly, its healing itch increasing each day.  Mom’s
wedding plans grated on my nerves.  And Beatriz’s daily questions about dress
styles and color preferences tested my patience.  It didn’t help that I spent
very little time with Morik again.  At least, time where I maintained
consciousness.  A few minutes while he drove me to school and less than two
hours after school.  I couldn’t wait for the weekend.

Saturday morning, Morik and I rushed to the Coffee Shop with
boxes from Gran.  Gran’s baked goods really took off.  Mona celebrated the
increase in business and started talking about extending her hours again.  I
declined as usual, which didn’t seem to bother her.  She mentioned bringing in
another part-time student while assuring me I’d keep my weekend hours.

The workday flew.  After clean up and prep for the next
morning, Morik drove me home where Beatriz already waited, an excited member of
the dress hunting party.  We rode in Aunt Grace’s new car for an hour to reach
the first of three shops they wanted to visit before dark.  Gran took
responsibility for clock watching.  Discreetly of course.

While Aunt Grace and Mom dug through white dresses, Beatriz
and I dug through bridesmaid dresses and winter formals.  After seeing a few
price tags, I happily let Beatriz take the lead on picking out and trying on
gowns.

Soon I found myself sitting outside of two dressing rooms. 
Mom came out with a first option, which we all agreed wasn’t ‘the one’.

As soon as Mom went back in, Beatriz quickly slipped on an
option.  She stepped out in a strappy dress that fell in a silky cascade to the
floor.  Silver threads woven into the material caught the light as she moved
giving the dress a subtle elegant sparkle.  I nodded my approval.  She
enthusiastically decreed she would not try on the others in the room with her. 
She found her dress.

Grace and I wandered over to the bridesmaid dresses while
waiting for the next round of admiring.  We agreed nothing on the racks tempted
either of us.  We both favored floor length, but neither of us favored the
prices.

Gran called out a gentle reminder to mom, “Don’t forget we
need to eat dinner.”  Code for, ‘we need to get Tessa home so keep it moving.’

Mom hurried out with her third option.  She glowed in the
dress and we all agreed it at least made the list.  The sales associate wrote
down the dress information in their register so Mom could return at another
time if she wanted to look at it again.

Fifteen minutes later, we stood in a new store.  Beatriz,
now that her own dress for the dance rested in the trunk of Aunt Grace’s car,
decided to pester me into trying on a few.  Aunt Grace found several bridesmaid
options for me to try on as well.

Standing in a small dressing room crowded with more dresses
than I had patience, I did the unthinkable.

“Morik,” I whispered.

“What’s that?” Gran called from outside the dressing room.

“Nothing.”  I wrinkled my nose and reached for the first
dress.  He probably couldn’t have helped me out anyway.  If I blinked out of
the dressing room, Beatriz would notice and Mom would flip.  No, I needed to
endure and just pick some stupid dresses.

The zipper resisted following its track.  I struggled to
pull it more than halfway up.  Twisting in the mirror trying to identify the
problem, a hidden pin jabbed me deeply in my side.

I swore.

“Do you need help, Tess?” Gran called.

“No.  There’s a stupid pin in this stupid dress and it’s
trying to kill me.”

The zipper wouldn’t ease back down.  Trying to tug the dress
up over my chest only made the poking worse.  Biting my lip to keep from
swearing prevented a scream from escaping when Morik appeared.

Staring at myself in the mirror, he stood just behind me
eyes swirling with yellow and red.  When he saw the dress, and the fitting
room, the red faded from his eyes.  I quickly held a finger to my lips and
motioned to the zipper.  He expertly eased it down.  Motioning for him to turn
around, I pulled the pin from the dress’s lining.  After a nudge, he helped zip
the dress again.  I leaned close to whisper my thanks and asked him to wait in
the room.

No one liked the dance dress when I presented it those waiting
outside the dressing room.  Mom stepped out from her own dressing room to shake
her head.  All that pain for nothing.  Schooling my disgruntlement, I stepped
back into the dressing room and presented my back to Morik.

Understanding his role, he unzipped me and turned to give me
privacy.  The next dress didn’t pose as much of a problem, but I hesitated to
dismiss him.

We moved through five of the seven dresses like that.  Gran
complemented me on my quick efficiency in switching gowns while Mom struggled
with her third option.

The sixth dress, a bridesmaid option, elated me.  The long
gown fell straight from the bust, looking slightly plain from the front.  The
back held together with a single strip of fabric running from shoulder blade to
shoulder blade.  Material draped from each shoulder creating a scooped cowl
back that dipped to the base of my mark with Morik.

I needed no assistance with the dress.  Tapping Morik, I
watched him in the mirror waiting for his reaction.  His eyes lingered on my
back and I felt his gentle touch on my mark.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

“What’s that?” Gran called.

I almost laughed aloud.  Instead, I called, “I think I found
one I like if Aunt Grace agrees.”  Making a shooing motion to Morik, who still
watched me with darkening eyes, I mouthed, ‘I’ll see you at home.’  He
disappeared abruptly and I stepped out to show off the dress.

Both Aunt Grace and I agreed it worth the price.  We talked
colors with Mom and decided on a bold deep red.  I liked Morik’s reaction to
the dress and asked if I could rush the order so I could wear it to the dance
since I paid for the dress with my tip money.

Mom’s gaze didn’t quite shine when we finalized the order. 
When I tried asking her if she didn’t like the dress, Gran put her arm around
Mom and assured me they all loved it.  Mom said nothing.

*    *    *    *

We stopped for an early dinner, brought Beatriz home, and
returned me to the fortress of solitude with a few minutes to spare.  Morik
opened the door for us when we pulled into the driveway.  No one seemed to mind
that he made himself at home.

Mom and Aunt Grace talked about the final options for my mom
while I disappeared back into the bedroom to get ready for the chant.  Morik
followed me.

“How was dress shopping?”

“Boring until you showed up,” I admitted, gathering my
pajamas.  “What were you doing?”

“Video game.  I liked helping you more.”

“I bet.” I rolled my eyes at him and darted to the bathroom.

When I emerged, the soothing cadence of the chant drifted
down the short hallway to me.  I hastened to the circle.  Morik joined the
chant adding his power to help protect me.  He led me to my room after they finished. 
I strove to keep my eyes open.

“Sleep well, Tessa,” he whispered easing me under the covers
and kissing my forehead.  The kiss sparked an idea, but the spell gripped me
too tightly to speak.  I drifted into the void.

*    *    *    *

I alertly opened my eyes.  I lay in bed alone.  The idea
still occupied my mind, undisturbed by my visit to the magical abyss that
substituted sleep.

A kiss sparked the mark.  A thought helped it grow.  Both
forged new aspects in my relationship with Morik.  Since the last extension,
our relationship hasn’t evolved.  We needed to go to the next step.  But what
defined the next step?

Both physically and mentally, we’d evolved.  Emotion. 
Neither of us ever really talked about what we feel for the other.  I squirmed
a little on the inside.  It made sense as the next step.

Tossing back the covers, I glanced at the clock and rushed
to dress.  Morik waited for me in the dining room.  Sitting across for him,
Stephen sipped his coffee with his back to me.  When I saw him, I froze in the
hallway, my eyes darting to Mom who sat at the head of the table.  She looked
strained.  Tense.

“Good morning, Tessa,” Morik greeted me and stood.  He took
my coat from the back of his chair and held it out for me.  Averting my gaze
from Stephen, who twisted to look at me, I allowed Morik’s help.

“Morning, Tess,” Stephen echoed Morik’s sentiment
pleasantly.  “Your mom was telling us about dressing shopping yesterday.”

I smiled and nodded.  The smile faltered a bit when I
glanced at my mom.  The very same topic of conversation had her walking around
with perma-grin for the last week.  Why the frown today?

“She has great taste.  I think she and Aunt Grace are going
to make the final selection this Saturday.  That right, mom?” I asked trying to
pull her out of her funk.

“You’re right.  She does have wonderful taste.  I’m
concerned about the bridesmaid dresses she described though.  Do you think,
given your age, we should consider something a little more…” his cheeks
pinkened slightly and he looked toward my mom.  She dropped her eyes to the
tabletop.

“We can talk about this later,” Gran asserted, motioning me
toward the door.

I glanced at the clock and quickly buttoned my jacket
nodding my agreement.

“Nice seeing you Stephen,” I said as a farewell.  Morik
silently followed me to the door.

Ensconced in the car, I turned to Morik.  “What was all that
about?”

“Your mother was trying to prepare him for the likelihood of
a shocking tattoo on one of her bridesmaids come the wedding.  He thought Aunt
Grace at first and then your mother clarified it was you.”

Oh.  I looked out the window.  The mark had significance to
me, to my family, to Morik, but to anyone else looking at it, they would see …
what?  An underage teen with an excessive tattoo.  A troublemaker.  I sighed
and rubbed my forehead.  Poor mom.