Triangle: A Memoir – Part I
A contemporary scene - or is it? An aunt and her winsome niece come to visit a reclusive bachelor writer - and stay to learn some life lessons they both need. As this writer learns his own...
In two parts, this follows The Caretaker from last week (link below.)
Click also to see the full version as this doesn’t fit most emails...
"I WANT YOU TO TEACH me about sex."
The lithe young thing was probably a third my age and somehow had wound up, pre-dawn, in my day bed with only her thin nightgown between us.
"My Aunt says it's OK as long as you agree. And my grandmother recommended you."
I didn't know this girl or her Aunt. Or how she got into my bed.
I don't teach, I write mysteries.
And this was one for the books...
Prologue
THE EMAIL WAS SIMPLE:
Dear Mr. Gauss,
I have a message to deliver from one of your old girlfriends. She told me you'd changed her life, but never worked up the courage to tell you to your face, until it was too late.
She passed on recently, and was talking about you at the end.
That was my Mother.
Since her reunion is coming up, I thought that might be time for me to come out and learn more about her from her friends. Since we'll be in town, I'd like to bring my graduating niece and visit with you while we are there.
Thanks for your consideration.
Fiona
My reply was simple as well:
Fiona,
I'd be happy to hear what your mother wanted to tell me.
This farm is always open for visits.
Do let me know when your in town and so I'll know what time to expect you.
Karl
A few days ago, she sent her planned itinerary.
I replied her that if she was running late, she could spend the night in the Iowa farm's Big House, as I lived in a small cabin off to the side of it. But go ahead and make herself at home, the beds were made up in the upstairs rooms. Or there's a long couch in the ground-floor library.
So that night, I was waiting in my cabin to meet visitors I'd never seen before. My smartphone was on my desk with the ring volume high, just in case their directions to this place didn't pan out.
I reclined on my daybed in my tiny home cabin as dusk fell, watching some movies on the computer's big flat-screen while I waited.
I had already shifted into comfortable cotton shorts and my usual t-shirt, with the screened windows open to breezes.
The day had been long already. Soon my eyes drooped and then stayed closed.
Modern cars don't make much noise.
I
I WAS DREAMING THAT there was an earthquake and someone was groaning and crying out beneath a tumbled-down building. I walked carefully over the ground, trying to keep my balance in the aftershocks. The world was rocking around me.
The groaning got louder, and for some reason one of my legs was trapped up to mid-thigh and I wasn't able to move it.
My eyes opened to the dark room of my tiny-home cabin. And I found the reason for the dream was someone sitting straddled over my thigh, a young female someone.
Almost at once, she went tense, shuddered, and then relaxed, falling next to me on that side – in a soft, long-legged heap. One of her thighs was still laying over mine, her arm now laying across my chest, her head on my shoulder.
I could smell jasmine in her long hair, and the scent of soap. Her arm was slick with sweat, and so was my leg where she'd been sitting on it. That scene was the apparent outcome from whatever she'd been doing that woke me up.
The movies I'd queued up had completed, and now the monitor screen just gave off a soft glow from the narrow desktop opposite this day-bed. A little dialog box showed my completed play-list.
It gave enough ambient light to see more of this young thing, who was still breathing heavy as she lay there. I could feel her heartbeat thorough her arm and thigh, where she was laying against and partly over the top of me.
This was no second dream. This was real.
I had to smile. The irony of this was rich.
I'd just finished outlining a steamy story that I knew I'd never publish, but one of the characters needed to resolve her sexual hangups. So that muse was bothering me until I outlined it and wrote some scraps of dialog, as well as descriptions. Steamy descriptions. Not my usual style.
And somehow, this young mystery woman had appeared in the middle of my night to satisfy herself and my muse – all at my expense.
On that thought, the young thing stirred, moved a strand of blond hair out of her eyes, and smiled broadly. Then kissed my chin lightly.
“So, Karl, you're awake.”
“Do I know you?”
She gave a quiet chuckle. “Well, I'm Kaylee. My Aunt has been emailing you about us visiting you after I graduated.”
I moved my arm out from under her, put it across her back, and used my hand on her shoulder to pull her away so I could see her more clearly.
She was dressed in a thin, one-piece nightgown. Simple, but with some lace at it's top. And thin enough to reveal she was sill aroused – and was evidently wearing nothing beneath it. The thin cloth outlined her small breasts, and the cloth where she had been riding my thigh was still high enough above her own thighs to expose her nakedness there as well.
Kaylee noticed my eyes' travel, and she simply moved her thigh back against mine to cover what was exposed.
My hand on her shoulder kept her from moving any closer to me. I needed to understand this situation better. Although I didn't really mind having someone close to me right then. Arousal tends to be infectious.
“So you are Kaylee. And by graduated, I assume that you are...”
“19 – in a few months.”
I gave a wry grin. “And who gave you permission to just come in here and rape me?”
She pushed back with her arms, but didn't move her thighs, which still pinned my own leg to the day-bed.
“Rape?!?”
“Well, I was asleep. So your actions were taken without my permission, and were sexual in nature.”
Her face held a shocked look. “But wait, I...” And she thought it through. Then her eyes narrowed. “Your word against mine. Besides, nothing happened.”
“It's still rape.”
She frowned. “You're serious.”
I smiled. “No, but that's one helluva introduction.”
She blushed and smiled back. “Sorry. You were stretched out there and so I just cuddled. Because you looked like you wanted a good cuddle. Like there should be someone by your side to watch movies with you. Even your arm was laid out, inviting.”
One of my eyebrows raised. “Inviting?”
“Well, the original idea was to just talk to you. And then I saw you were asleep. One of your movies was still playing, while the volume was low. But you were smiling in your dreams, and I didn't want to wake you. Plus, your books always talk about your characters cuddling and hugging. I was getting chilled, so it was just natural to cuddle up to you. Then your arm came up around me – and I got excited. One thing lead to another and then you woke up...”
She bit her lip to keep from talking any further. A bit nervous now.
I just pulled her back down and hugged her close again. She laid her head back down on my chest, then she returned the hug with her arm and thigh pressing down on me again.
“Well, Kaylee. No harm done. Yes, it's an unconventional way to introduce yourself. But I suppose it's still often better to ask forgiveness than permission.”
She sighed. “Auntie said you'd be like that.”
A frown crossed my forehead. “Your Aunt and I have never met.”
She squeezed me again. “But my grandma knew you. And you've told all about yourself through your books.”
“Those fantasy stories about shape-shifters and ghosts?”
“Don't short-change yourself. A lot of those were romances, or had a strong romance story arc. And most were actually mysteries as the prime story-line. But the juicy bits longed to be read between the lines.”
I pulled my head to the side to look at her face below my chin. “And you're a romance critic?”
She chuckled. “I like writing. And yes, I prefer romances. Well, parts of me do.” Her hand was now under my t-shirt, tracing the waistband of my shorts, her index finger testing its elastic.
That almost made me laugh. “So you figure your 'parts' wouldn't mind having their way with me if they got the chance?”
At that comment, she froze her hand, then pushed back, sat up, and adjusted her gown to cover everything properly. “Not exactly. Auntie said you'd teach me about sex.”
That made me sit up on my day-bed, and move my legs well away from her. “Oh, she did? I don't recall that coming up in her emails.”
Kaylee smiled broadly. “Well, the subject came up while we were driving here.”
“Meaning, you and your Aunt are close and frank with each other?”
Kaylee nodded, a wide grin on her face. “And headstrong, impetuous. She's been reading your books too, and when I brought up the idea, she shrugged and agreed.”
A wry smile started in a corner of my mouth. “Do you happen to recall her exact words?”
Kaylee looked around the small cabin, to the monitor and back to me. “Well, she said that it was OK – if you agreed.”
“And you just took my sleeping as tacit consent?”
The young girl shrugged, which gave a provocative movement underneath her night gown. “We've already been over that.”
A breeze through the window hit the drying spot on my thigh. “Time for you to go.”
Kaylee frowned, and stood herself. Barefoot, she barely came above my shoulder. “You're kicking me out?”
“I'm sending you back to your own bed. You don't have my consent to be here.”
She looked directly into my eyes, and gave a quiet smile. “You know, you're eyes are very expressive. They can tell me that what you say officially isn't what you mean.”
Her hand started to move to my sides. I tried to stop them, but they ended up in a hug around my waist.
Through my t-shirt and shorts, I could feel every curve of her, and it wasn't possible to keep up my pretended seriousness. I hugged her back, close.
And we both enjoyed it for awhile.
“Just like your books.” Kaylee rubbed the side of her face on my chest. “Only you left out the part about having a rock-hard, chiseled body.” Her hand ran across my stomach. “And I can count your six-pack...”
I pushed her back with a smile. “Definitely too many romances. Time for you to get to your own bed, young lady.”
She pretended to pout. “This isn't over.”
“See you at breakfast.”
At that, I stood up. The warmth we held between us quickly cooled.
She got the hint and stood up on her own, her nightgown falling in place to cover the top half of her legs.
Nodding, she turned and crossed the few steps to the front door with a barefoot, light step. And then paused to look at me with wistful eyes. Just before the closing screen door blocked my view of that slim, athletic form.
I was too tired to take a cold shower. But I got up and turned off the monitor and then climbed the narrow ladder to my loft. At least there it wouldn't smell of jasmine and soap – once I stripped off what I was wearing and threw those down to the cabin floor far below.
II
NO, THE LADIES WEREN'T up yet. Summer days tend to drive the sun from its own bed early, and the door window on the east of my cabin lit up everything quite well. Sleeping in becomes nearly impossible.
So I came up to the big house and started making three breakfasts. My usual was panbread (one egg) and the other two eggs cooked easy over and inserted to make a sandwich between the bread halves. For the ladies, I was just making simple three-egg panbread.
Coffee (my usual chicory blend) was already made and hot. My mug was nearly brim full after adding its usual two dollops of honey. And I sipped it while checking the news on my smartphone, also checking the panbread from time to time. I doubt that the news would last long enough for all the cooking I was attempting. It was the weekend and their typically slow news days. I was only cooking for one person at a time, but hopefully one of the ladies upstairs would be down before any serving got cold.
Sure enough, I heard the petite padding of footsteps on the bare wood stairs. Just in time.
Shoveling the first slab of hot, fresh panbread over onto a plate, I set that out on the kitchen island next to a fork. Then poured an additional mug of coffee for whichever lady it was going to be, and put the honey bear squeeze jar out on the island as well. I had a quart ceramic pitcher of farm-fresh whole milk in the fridge if she wanted it. Or just water.
That had to be be Fiona who came down first, a smile on her face, and a bathrobe over her nightgown. Brunette with natural highlights coming in here and there. Middle age, I'd guess late thirties. Her off-white cotton nightgown with small flowers fit her well, blue and greens accents under her fluffy dark blue bathrobe, which was closed and tied snugly. Little anklet socks were muffling the sound and keeping her feet insulated from the bare wood stairs.
“Good Morning! Oh, that smells so great upstairs – all your cooking. Ooh – coffee!” She came over and sat down in one of the high bar stools around the small kitchen's island. She smelled and tasted the coffee carefully, then put it down to screw off the funnel-tipped top of that honey bear in order to get a couple of spoonfuls out.
After stirring, she raised the mug with both hands to taste and her eyes closed with a wide smile – contented.
With its top now replaced, she drizzled some honey over her panbread. After the first taste, she was quietly cutting and stuffing forkfuls into her mouth. Heaven had arrived. And Fiona cooed and gave muffled moans over the taste. No chef could ask for higher compliments.
I just kept smiling as I cooked the next one.
And, on cue, here was a sleepy-eyed Kaylee in her same thin beige nightdress, a thick pink cotton robe on but open, it's cord stuffed into side pockets. Her bleached blond hair with dark roots was bed-head mussed, finger-combed at best. She was making her way to the kitchen island – led by her nose rather than her unsteady barefoot feet and half-closed eyes.
She slid into the other tall bar stool, just as her own plate of delicious smelling panbread made it's arrival.
“Coffee?” I asked.
She wrinkled her nose under squinty eyes and nodded.
“How about some whole milk with that? Young bodies keep growing until about age 24...”
Kaylee cocked her head and looked at her Aunt and me. Then pulled out the lacy neck of her nightgown with one hand to look down it. “Hear that girls? There's hope yet!”
I had to smile as I set the milk pitcher on the table near her own coffee mug. I stood by in case she wasn't ready for the heft of that china pitcher, but she was more awake and prepared than she looked. Only a precise amount hit the mug's interior. A spoon swirled the mixture. A sample taste, then some honey squeezed in, some more swirling, and at last, “Ahh. Finest latte this side of the Mississippi!”
Her Aunt chuckled. I turned my smile back to the next panbread helping, which was my own.
Kaylee was also quiet as she dug into and made quick work of her breakfast.
When my own plate arrived on the kitchen island, both ladies gandered at my two easy-over eggs in a panbread sandwich and each sighed. We all knew they didn't have room for any more, but it looked so much better than theirs.
“OK, ladies, I'll do yours this way tomorrow.”
The relief was tangible.
Fiona had the first question. “What's on your plan for today?”
I finished chewing a mouthful of panbread heaven to politely reply. “Same as most days. Out to gather the eggs, feed the animals (including pets), check the cows, and return here for any fixing or repairs I have to do. When that's all done, then I return to writing.”
“Mind if we tag along?” Fiona had a hopeful look.
I was trying to get breakfast down without choking myself. Since I'd let the two ladies eat in quiet, I hoped to do the same. Forcing a swallow, I managed a terse “Sure.”
Kaylee was looking up something from her smartphone, evidently retrieved from her robe pocket.
Her Aunt cleared her throat. “Kaylee?”
She looked up. “Oh, I was hoping to get some more study in on Karl's books.”
I gestured toward her smartphone and held out my hand.
Kaylee turned it over to me.
I swiped and touched, and thumbed in an address into her browser, then returned her phone to her. “Now you have a back door entrance into my Calibre library. That's got all my published books in it, as well as a lot of books I've researched. Plus some I haven't gotten around to yet. Knock yourself out.”
Kaylee's eyes went wide. “Ooh, that's so cool. Thanks.” She stood up and took her mug and smartphone over to the great room couch to slump into it and explore the vast wealth of new reading material.
Fiona got up without a word and collected the plates (including my now empty one) and all the cutlery, plus her own empty mug. “That breakfast was so great. Let me do the dishes, then.”
I smiled. “OK, I'll let you help. Dryers are always needed on the clean up line.”
Fiona brought everything over to the double sink. I reached below for a wash basin and filled it half-way with hot water, plus a little squeeze of soap. Dropping everything in, Fiona pushed me aside and started scrubbing everything, then giving each one in turn a rinse so she could set it over for drying.
With the rest of my coffee now waiting well away from the splashing in the sink area, I then picked up a hand towel to start the drying myself. I wasn't picky as to job assignments in the kitchen. Besides, I knew where everything went, so it was more logical that I simply take the end of the line.
Washed and dried, everything put away, I picked up my own coffee again.
Fiona turned to wipe down the island, and see if Kaylee had finished her own coffee. “Kaylee! KAYLEE! What have we discussed about acceptable decorum? And we are.... guests!”
Kaylee peered up from her smartphone, raised her head, and with a look of annoyance at being interrupted: “Whaat?”
The young girl's legs were spread, with one foot on the floor, the other over the top of the couch. Her own head was resting on the couch cushions until her Aunt had called her out.
From my position, inside the kitchen nook, I could only see one foot, part of a leg, and her head. Her Aunt was seeing the whole exposé.
Fiona was biting her lower lip, beet red at least from the collar of her bathrobe to the roots of her hair.
I spoke to defuse the scene before either said something they would regret later. “Fiona, catch your breath, let me speak some sense to Kaylee.”
Fiona nodded, cautious, but somewhat relieved.
“Kaylee?”
Something in the tone of that question got her attention. She pulled her leg down in order to sit upright on the couch cushions, arranged her robe and turned to face me again.
I hadn't moved from my spot in the breakfast nook. I hadn't seen anything. My voice was even and calm, almost quiet.
“Kaylee, I haven't said I'd agree to your request for training. And frankly, I haven't seen anything this morning that would persuade me to accept it.
“That said, if – and that's IF – I agree to teach you anything, it will be under this one rule: You can only get as good as you give – and giving comes first. If you want either of us to respect you enough to help you learn what you want, then you are going to have to start respecting us and what we suggest you do.”
Kaylee nodded.
I just sipped down the last of my now-cooled coffee.
Kaylee was puzzled. “And...?”
I smiled, and looked down into my coffee mug. It was empty. So I turned and put it into the sink.
“And... now I have my chores to do.”
With that, I walked around the corner of the island and out the front door, over to my tiny home cabin.
Whatever they went over while I was getting into my boots, gloves, and ball-cap, I didn't hear.
III
FIONA FOUND ME IN THE barn after that.
She was dressed in a blue chambray blouse, tucked into stonewashed blue jeans, above sensible sneakers. She had a firm figure on her, trim. Her long brunette hair had been pulled into a loose pony tail behind her head. Her bare head and hands told me she had no clue what farm chores required.
“Karl?”
I just smiled at her. “Yes, Fiona?”
“I'm so, so sorry about what just happened.”
“Don't be. She's headstrong and acting out.”
“But she's not like this.”
“Not in front of you, anyway. I don't know her, but I know what makes this result. It's not you, and it's not her parents.”
“I'm the only parent she has right now.”
I looked into her hazel eyes. “I'm sorry to hear that.”
Those eyes moistened. “And the anniversary of their death is just days away.”
I waited. Her lower lip was trembling. And then she straightened herself. A mask took it's place on her face.
“There's something else that happened around then?”
Fiona looked off across the barn. Her breath was stuttering, catching. No attempt by her to even it out had any chance to succeed.
So I waited, standing there. I put down the feed bucket I was carrying. Her story must be drastic to have that effect.
Her eyes turned back to me. “Fiona was staying with me. My husband was driving that night. A drunk driver crossed the center line and they all went over a steep embankment, then blew up in an explosion.”
The tears started down her cheeks. First one side, then the other, and then she stood there shaking, as the tears started streaming down.
I stepped forward to hold her. The deep, racking sobs all came at once then. Her arms went around my neck, while I crouched to hold her waist and back. I did nothing but support her – and wait.
At last the sobs eased, and she turned her face sideways on my chest, her arms lowered to my back, still tight.
My own arms pulled her as close as she seemed to need. Until the sobs quit and the sniffling began.
At last she pulled away, red eyed and worried. “Karl – it's just so hard, so damned hard to... Kaylee is a good girl. When she concentrates, she can make good grades. And I have a job that allows us to live well. She's got a trust to go to college and all that, but still I worry. And I worry myself to a frazzle. But when she comes to me for help, or 'acts out', I don't have anyone to go to, to talk to. It's just so damed hard. Why does it have to be so hard?”
She started crying again. I untied the bandanna around my neck and gave it to her. I hadn't sweated in it (much) so far. She nodded her thanks. I picked up the feed bucket and placed it on a nearby feed trough where I could get it later. And then walked with my arm around her out of the barn to the nearby porch of my tiny home cabin. A few steps, opening the screen door, and we were inside.
Then we were side by side on the daybed, with it's patchwork quilt and solid-colored throw pillows. It also served as a sometimes couch.
I just waited for her explanation. The bandanna was soaking up a lot of excess eye moisture meanwhile.
- - - -
KAYLEE WAS STAYING with her dad's sister Fiona ever since her dad was accused of child abuse. And until the trial, he wasn't allowed to be in the same house with her. So she spent a lot of time with Fiona.
She had her own room in Fiona's house, and they got along pretty good. Both were a bit headstrong, but they also had tells. So after a while, they started calling out each other on their BS. Of course, Kaylee was called out more than Fiona, who had better reasoning to support her side.
Fiona's husband and Kaylee's parents were coming back from a lawyer's office when the wreck occurred.
The funeral for all three was closed casket, and they were buried right by each other, with a fourth plot reserved nearby.
Her parent's will stipulated that a college trust fund for Kaylee was to be created from all their savings, investments, and insurance, plus the sale of the house and any belongings of theirs that Kaylee didn't want, including their vehicles.
Kaylee didn't want much to remember them by, and gave those few items to Fiona to hold for her. Other than her clothes, the rest of their house held too many memories. At least that house was on the other side of town, and in a cul-de-sac. She'd never visited it since she moved out.
Fiona met her own husband in high school, dated and then married after college. He'd never been unfaithful, and seemed a perfect partner. A soul-mate. Both he and Fiona had put off having children to follow their careers, which required long hours at their small accounting business.
After his death, Fiona sold the business and started working part-time as an accountant in order to sort out her life, and take care of Kaylee.
- - - -
I GOT ALL OF THIS OUT of her through regular refills of Chamomile tea, accompanied by some chocolate chip cookies – from an unopened package I'd stored “for emergency use only” in my pantry cabinet.
“So you decided it was time to get out of town for the anniversary, just to put your mind on something else this year?”
Fiona looked up into my eyes. Hers were still reddened, but dry now. Any mascara she had worn was in that bandanna now. Not that she needed any.
Nodding, she answered. “Yes. It seemed perfect timing. She's been accepted to a state college not too far away from my house, and Kaylee had no particular plans for the summer. I took off from my freelance work (since it's the slow season now, anyway) and we decided to do a road trip.
“My mom finally died about a month ago, after a long bout with cancer, and she left this mystery of 'her handsome boyfriend from high school who saved her life', plus her regret of never taking the time to visit you and thank you personally.
“So yes, when we got a notice about my mother's high school reunion, it seemed that everything had fallen into place.”
I nodded, understanding the overall scheme of things.
Then Fiona looked around the small cabin, and then back into my eyes. “Wait. What happened here last night? I mean, she was here while I was sleeping, wasn't she? Am I supposed to be apologizing for something she did or tried to do?”
I gave a wry smile, to relieve the tension. “Fiona, the short answer is 'no'. While yes, Kaylee did 'act out', nothing happened that you need to worry about. She just wanted to tell me that you'd agreed that I could teach her about sex.”
Fiona's jaw dropped.
I almost chuckled out loud, which made her puzzled. “And I told her I needed to check with you first. Now, don't get into a frazzle on this one. I know teen agers – I survived being one myself. I 'acted out' when I was dating your own mother almost as bad as what we saw at breakfast. Only I was a guy, and things were stricter then. Despite it being the 70's.
“And I've had women throw themselves at me for various reasons before. Young or older, it's all just acting out.”
Fiona was relaxed again by now. Between the tea, the chocolate chip cookies, and my calm explanations, she had the balm she needed for her frazzled nerves.
“Now, Kaylee told me that you and she discussed this on the way down here. Can you tell me exactly what you said to her?”
“I was driving, so what I told her was parsed between making sure we didn't miss our next exit and trying to keep her narrowed down to specifically what she was trying to say. She went from the marriage her parents had to my marriage, to her grandma and that mystery fixation on you. So she was somehow tying these three together – that we were going to meet you and sleuth out this mysterious something you said to my mother when you two were in high school and dating. Years before either of us were born.
“Her question was something along the lines of 'Do you think I could get him to teach me about sex and love?' – meaning 'true love', something that would last over three generations.
“And by last night, she shortened it to just 'sex'.”
I smiled and nodded.
Fiona sat bolt upright. “Did you – I mean, did she – but she couldn't, or she could... But Karl, did she...”
I held up my hand. “OK, again, the short answer is No. But she tried. And got nowhere. As I said, it's not my first rodeo in wrangling teen agers. I've been married, too. For what it's worth. And no, that woman wasn't my 'soul mate'. It ended pretty piss-poorly for that matter. But out here, I've found my peace with a lot of these things I've said and done in my long life. So some teenager with a burning itch that won't quit is not something I'm going to let ruin what I've got going here.”
Reassured, Fiona again relaxed against the day-bed's throw pillows. “Look, I'm pretty sure she's had sex before, or something approaching that. I do the laundry in my house, so the smells and soils leave their own clues what she's been up to. I know she's protected, but I still worry a bit. Some of the guys in her crowd are a bit rough.”
“Fiona, I have to ask – did her father ever abuse her?”
Fiona rolled her eyes. “Just with his bad taste in music from the 80's.
“No, that accusation came from some disgruntled parent of another child that he taught. Something about her grade-point average. But the child in question was busy banging football players instead of studying, according to the reports I got. Still, the government has some really weird laws and regulations about these things. So the upside of it was the Kaylee and I've become quite close – like the daughter I should have had and never did. And Kaylee had two sets of loving parents for awhile.”
She sipped her tea and thought.
After a short while, I softly interrupted her thinking. “OK, getting back to what she want to learn. She's really tackled a huge subject.”
Fiona shrugged, and looked out the tiny window of my tiny cabin. Her eyes were moist again.
- - - -
A SPARK OF AN IDEA hit me. “Look, I think you haven't alloted enough time for your vacation. It's going to be several days for you to return. And leaving today would just be another strain, on top of all that driving to get here. This farm is particularly good at helping people find peace, to heal. That house has sat empty for years. Other than family reunions, we keep it cleaned up and shut up the rest of the time. Everything I need is in here in this little cabin, well, except for the laundry, so...”
Fiona looked like someone just took the entire weight of the world off her shoulders. “You mean...?”
“I'm inviting the two of you to stay as long as you want – well, until winter, anyway, which is when all these nuisance holidays show up together. Along with their seemingly requisite relatives visits.”
Fiona almost leapt off her end of the day-bed to hug me. “Oh, this is the nicest thing anyone has done for me, since I don't know when. You are just such a doll!”
I couldn't say anything because small kisses started covering my face and lips, and after that I though my neck was going to be broken from her hugs. Then the kisses started again.
At last, she pushed back from me. “Well, again, thanks. I've got to go – make some calls and then I'll check back with you to see how we can help you and how we handle supplies – I promise we won't be an interruption to your work. Just let us know – oh, this is so great – I can't thank you enough.”
She rose and forced her hands down to her side, looking me right in the eyes with her bright hazel ones. “I still don't know what my mother heard from you, but I now know how you are a life-changer. Oh bless you, bless you, bless you!”
And then I barely saw her clear the screen door before disappearing from my sight. In the distance I heard her call for her niece. And then some excited giggling came through the open and screened windows of the big house.
Then I realized I hadn't told her about that chest freezer full of beef cuts in the basement.
Of course, I still had no curriculum that her niece was going to have to follow. Because I didn't know what was causing her to act out all that sex stuff every time she got near me.
I just rose at that point, fished out another bandanna to tie around my neck, and went to retrieve that feed bucket. Chores still needed to get finished.
IV
“I FOUND YOUR SECRET stash of porn books.”
So much for that chain of thoughts. Whatever snappy dialog I'd been typing just went out the window.
Glancing up, I saw Kaylee at the screen door. Blue jean short-shorts, a short flowered halter top. Blond hair brushed out, parted to the side, hanging loose over her shoulders and down her back. Barefoot – which probably was a trick getting across that gravel drive between my tiny-home cabin and the big house.
I turned back to my screen and back-tracked to see if I could find the trail of what the characters were trying to say.
“Aren't you going to invite me in?”
I didn't look up. “Should I?”
Kaylee paused at this. “Yeah. Or I tell Auntie.”
“Go ahead.”
“You don't care?”
“It's not the truth. And your Aunt won't believe you. Your timing sucks, by the way.” My eyes were still on the screen. I was pointedly trying to ignore her.
“Karl, you know that won't work. Not with me standing here.”
I glanced up. She 'd dropped her shorts to her ankles and was holding her halter top in one hand. The sun behind her accentuated her youthful curves, while the shadows did little to hide the features of her slim teen body.
I turned back to my laptop and it's unmoving screen.
A sigh escaped my lips. “What did we cover after breakfast this morning?”
The silence was golden as she stood there naked, thinking.
“Respect.”
“Right. Show some.”
I heard some rustling, which sounded like she put her clothes back into position. The characters on my screen were no longer talking to me – as if they seemed to be wanting to see how this was going to play out.
“Please let me come in.”
Another glance. Her clothes were indeed returned to their proper places. She'd pulled her hair back behind her shoulders, which weren't so defiant now.
“Okay. You can enter.”
I heard the screen door open and close. Her bare feet didn't make a sound on the bare hardwood floor. I could see her shadow on that floor out of the corner of my eye.
It was a stand off. But I was sitting. We both knew I was trying to ignore her.
“I'm sorry, Karl.”
“And...?”
“Have you decided to teach me?”
“Not yet.”
“May I sit on your day-bed, please?”
“Yes. As long as you keep your clothes on.”
I heard the mattress creak as she sat down behind me, at the near end of that day-bed. And I waited.
She kept quiet, not moving. I just kept looking at my screen. I wanted to see if the story's characters were getting bored and would try to start talking again. But they were as pensive as I was.
So I swiveled around on that rolling chair of mine.
Kaylee had pulled out her phone and was reading.
I sat there, watching her. Her long legs were up on the daybed and crossed toward me at her ankles. She was cute, after all. Still not fully clothed, but it was a start. For myself, I had a fresh dry t-shirt on and was back into the shorts I wear inside on warm days. The ones she wanted to take off me last night – well, early this morning.
I knew she could see me out of the corner of her eye. “You know you're making this very difficult.”
Kaylee didn't respond.
I eyed my slip-on tennis shoes by the door. And put my hands on the arms of my swivel chair to get up.
“Wait. Please wait.” Kaylee sat up, legs together, elbows on her knees. Smartphone in her two hands.
I glanced over her, with her big brown eyes, her slim shoulders and trim legs. All that skin. “This isn't going to work. Stay there.”
I rose and pulled a gray sweat shirt and matching long pants from the short set of wall hooks that held my work jeans as well. “Put these on.”
She snuggled into the sweat shirt. “I don't need those pants, they are too big.”
I just held the sweatpants out, waiting.
Kaylee sighed, then took them out of my hand and slipped into them. Then sat down again, same pose as before. She was right, they nearly covered her feet.
“That's better.” I took my seat again. Looking her over, I saw that temporary fix was slightly better. It balanced the playing field, a bit.
She saw me looking her over. “What now?”
I smiled, the first she'd seen since her interruption stopped my writing. “Kaylee, one thing you need to know is that more clothes are often sexier than less.”
She grinned at this. She'd gotten a lesson. And I'd just called her sexy. “Ooh – Thanks.”
- - - -
MY FACE WENT SERIOUS again. “OK, now that 'porn' is called erotica. It's for research. Some could be called porn, but I doubt you'd know the difference.”
“Try me.” Her defiant side returned.
“OK, so you want to become a writer. What's more important, plot or story.?”
Puzzled brows appeared. She thought this over. “Story, I guess.”
“Because?”
“Plot describes the story.”
“Right.”
“What's the difference between porn and erotica?”
“Story?”
“Good guess. Porn is a lot of illicit or illegal sex acts strung together in a sequence. It's a melodrama – the characters just respond to the actions. But erotica is – what?”
The puzzled brow returned to her face. “Wait – I can figure this out.”
As she sat there, I took her phone out of her hands. She was holding onto it like a crutch, and didn't want to let go.
Frowning, she started thinking out loud. “Porn doesn't have story. So erotica must. But if it's all just sex, than it's back to being porn. So erotica uses sex acts to forward the story.”
I smiled at her once more. “Good logic. Erotica is technically just a name for explicit sex inside a story. Even if there's only a single sex act, the whole book can get labeled 'erotica'.”
Kaylee nodded, understanding. “So some of these are just racy.”
“And the others?”
“Porn.”
“Trashy novels. Same thing. Like 'food porn' – tempting, but useless. Unless you're addicted.”
“So why do you keep them on your network?”
I shrugged. “Mainly, I haven't gotten around to deleting them. Like most people, I've collected a lot of books that I haven't read or even know what's in them. But I can search by tags and find examples of what I want to study. Actually some of the erotica descriptions are very good in terms of what glands and nerves are influencing the person's response. But a great story doesn't need sex scenes running through it. Readers actually have very vivid imaginations. A single ellipses is often more powerful than pages of text.”
Kaylee's big brown eyes were wide, hanging on every word. She'd just gotten a two-for.
I took her phone and started thumbing through it to find her recent reads. “Some of these books you've been reading I've scanned through. And some of these you've spent a lot of time on, already. Which ones did you like most?”
Her face flushed. She reached for the phone, but I held it back. She sighed.“Well, that last one was pretty good.”
“Why did you like it?”
That flush deepened. She looked to one side for an answer that would fit. “Well, I was... looking for – techniques.”
I chuckled. Then tossed the phone back in her lap. She grabbed at it and looked up the book I had opened.
“Kaylee, you're going to have to admit you don't know the first thing before you are going to make any progress.”
“I know a lot of stuff.”
“Like positions.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Look, young lady, what are you here for?”
“To learn about sex.”
I shook my head. “Wrong.”
She was puzzled. “Wait, I...”
“You don't know the first thing about sex.” She started to interrupt – I held up a single finger to stop her right there. “Sex is part of love – a very small part. And life isn't about having sex, it's about making love. Sharing love, living in love.”
She sat back on the day-bed's throw pillows behind her, stunned.
Her life so far was unraveling.
V
IT WAS ANOTHER GORGEOUS day out on the pastures.
Fiona had found some boots that fit her after I recommended she get into something sturdier than her sneakers. She was still in her chambray blouse and stone-washed jeans.
And these were both tight enough to prove that her middle-age figure still had its own 'come hither' appeal.
But I was busy chatting about my cows, their calves names, and which of the calves were still cute compared to the ones who were forward enough to lick the salty sweat off my forearm.
All about how to gentle cows, and how certain breeds were “calm” and others could be wild.
I was in my element.
And Fiona was drinking it up like a fan-girl, even though it was way above her pay-grade – as she and her parents had been born and raised in cities. At least her mom was raised in a small town surrounded by farms.
At last I quieted. All talked out.
We were looking out over a pasture. I was leaning with both elbows and arms over the top of a tall metal gate. It stood about shoulder height to me. She had stepped onto a lower rung and then held onto that gate's top rung,so she could roughly do the same, although she was bent out in the middle slightly, something that was oddly attractive – somehow. Her arms were on top of the that top rung, leaving her curvy chest below. The chambray tightened, and the jeans got no looser.
So I tried to concentrate on the cows with their calves, instead. Her niece was already too much distraction to my writing. At least the cows weren't demanding my attention.
“Thanks again, Karl.”
“Sure – but for what this time?”
“You're right about the magic of this place. It's so peaceful. Most all of my worries have quieted.”
“Glad to share this place with you.”
“And thanks for helping Kaylee.”
“She's a good girl. Bright, talented – and cute.”
Fiona smiled and looked at me. “She's getting to you, isn't she?”
I looked at her. “Well, both of you have been a good thing for me. I'd forgotten how women could turn me inside out with just a comment or a look.”
She raised an eyebrow, her hazel eyes seeming to twinkle. “The confirmed bachelor – smitten?”
I chuckled. “I guess I left myself open for that one. I was meaning that its all good background ideas for my muses.”
After a doubting look, Fiona turned back toward the herd and stood up on the metal gate fully. Her head was now above mine, and her many feminine attributes were beautifully accented in the morning sun.
Smitten? Maybe.
I shifted my own stance. “Say, I think you were in the middle of telling me your story. Let's go somewhere more comfortable than leaning over this metal gate.”
She smiled down at me, those green eyes definitely twinkling now. “My foot arches were beginning to wonder if you'd ever ask.”
- - - -
IT WAS AN OLD AND MASSIVE oak that had fallen down years ago. And in front of it was a Paw-paw grove, which gave us a secluded spot, even though we weren't really near the graveled road. There, the fence-row trees and brush were already a thickish site barrier to the occasional truck or car that used that rural road to get to somewhere else.
And I didn't even know why I wanted privacy, other than what we were talking about was personal to her. I think it was more that we could have a quiet spot, uninterrupted, with the rest of the world staying beyond that thick cover of leaves.
Fiona settled down, relaxed. Even though her feet hardly touched the ground from where she sat on that big log. She was admiring the foliage overhead.
I was next to her, but not touching. “You had a good marriage, then?”
She was smiling as she turned her face to me. “It was almost continuous bliss. We were happy. Not that we didn't argue, or say things we regretted. But life was good. And the 'make-up sex' was nice, too.”
“You said you met in high school, but married after college.”
“Sure. We weren't certain that what we found in each other was real. I mean, it was almost too perfect. We talked regularly, like best friends. I went to a women's college (when they still had those things) and he was in a university in the same town. Our friends teased us about being an old couple without the marriage. We were dating other people, and helped each other over the breakups.
“And somewhere in our senior year, we started dating steadily with each other. Then our friends quit teasing us – because they were envious about what we had that they didn't. “
“I can see how that loss was serious for you.”
“It was. After his funeral, I took my work home and finished up what I had to. I didn't go out for a week. If it weren't for Kaylee, it might have been much worse.”
“How did she help you?”
“Teenagers eat – a lot. So we had to get out to restock the fridge. I started sending her out to pick up what we needed, and found I was eating a lot of pizza, chicken wings, and soft drinks. I'm sorry, but fast food isn't really food. And it goes through a budget quick. I tried making a list, but then I realized she never took any Home Economics classes – I don't think they even teach them anymore – so she'd be lost in a supermarket with all those choices.
“That's when we started shopping together. First it was food. Then she dragged me over to a video store – why don't they call these DVD stores, now – and then we had to somehow go over to pick our favorite donuts from one of these places that's like the '57 Varieties of Ice Cream'.
“Soon she introduced me to 'chick flicks' and we'd watch the gland-driven teenagers falling for the stupidest hunks with the dreamiest eyes – and then we'd scream at the TV screen, 'No, don't let him go there! He's no good for you!'”
She was smiling. It was good to see her smiling after all those tears.
“Anyway, I'd cook us up something healthy – and low-cost, then we'd splurge on donuts or ice cream or popcorn while we watched these movies. Those TV series were good for the weekend. You know, binge watching.
“Kaylee and I would discuss the plots. Because they were all mostly romance. And the girl got the guy in the end. No tragedies for us. Too close to home.”
She sighed, looking wistful for other days. And hugged my arm while she looked off through the trees.
I just stayed quiet and enjoyed her warmth.
“But I knew Kaylee was over the worst of it when she started dating again. And I kept watching movie rentals. But now I was catching up with all these romances and romance-adventures, and romantic thrillers. My favorite was that last 'Indiana Jones' – where he finally gets the girl, the one he's always loved the whole time.
“I'm just a sucker for that type of movie. Something to do with what I lost.” She sniffled, and I looked over in time to see a tear go down one cheek.
My arm went around her and she snuggled in close.
After a while, “Fiona, I have to ask – you know those movies where they say that you never really lose the one who's gone because they live in your heart?”
“Yeah, mostly bunk.”
“How so?”
“Because your heart just hurts without them there in person. If they are still in your heart, then why are they making it hurt so much?”
“Maybe because you have to open that door wider to let them back in. Maybe your heart is closed off a bit too narrow for them to squeeze in again.”
“Or maybe I'm still mad at him for leaving without saying goodbye.”
We just sat there with each other for awhile.
She started drawing little circles on my jeans-covered thigh. “Karl?”
“Yes?”
“So if you're right, then that all goes back to the point of love being eternal, and it's maybe true that heaven is all around us and so are those who have left us in person...”
“That's one idea. Has some merit.”
“So the pain I was feeling was what I wanted to feel, not what he was trying to tell me from wherever he is?”
“Seems to fit in with that idea. What do you think?”
Fiona sat upright. “That's why Mom loved you all this time. I mean – she loved my Dad, and I'd hear her talking to his picture on the mantel years after he'd passed. She was having a conversation like he was in the room.”
I nodded. I've seen that before myself. And certainly I talked to my animals liked they understood me, even when I had to bury pets that tugged at my heart so hard after they were gone. Talking to them eased the pain. I never knew why, only that it did. Fiona was preaching to the choir on this one.
Fiona had also been thinking while I was lost in my own thoughts. “Karl – maybe that's the scene. I quit listening to him. And that was what was blocking my heart and giving me all that pain.”
I looked down and found her looking up at me. So I just nodded and smiled. “So you're going to go off and have some conversations?”
Fiona nodded, unwrapped herself from me, and scooted down off the big log. “Sure thing. But I'll walk you back to your cabin. I think I've been cutting into your writing time enough today.”
I just smiled at her and led us off toward the cow-path that in turn led back to my cabin and the big house.
VI
A SLIGHT TAPPING SOUNDED at the screen door to my tiny-home cabin.
I didn't really know if I was going to get any writing done that day.
“Yes, Kaylee?”
“How did you know it was me?”
“Jasmine and soap.”
“You've got a good nose.”
“The breeze is coming from behind you.”
“I'm interrupting you, sorry.”
I chuckled. “Better to ask forgiveness...”
“May I come in, please? I've brought some 'muse food' for you...”
“Yes, I could smell the brownies, too – come on in.”
She left the plate on my desk, and took one of those brownies with her laptop to sit on the daybed, cross-legged and munching from one hand while she opened that laptop up and got it running with her other hand.
Today she was wearing an over-sized men's shirt – cowboy cut in a bluish plaid with the collar and sleeves rolled up, over stovepipe jeans that had to be stretchable blue denim to pull that close to her calves. At the top, her hair was rolled up into some bun that left the extreme ends of it exploding like fireworks above, while below, she had simple slip-on boat shoes to protect her feet from the gravel stretch between the two buildings. Other than her ankles and wrists, she was mostly covered.
“Where do you get all these clothes?”
In a mock announcer's voice: “...You'll find large capacity storage in these modern cars, if you select your sedan or SUV with an eye for detail...”
“Well they look good on you.”
“I'm glad you approve. Someone told me that clothes on women make them sexier than wearing just skin. Did you notice the shirt?”
“What specifically – wait, is that one of mine?”
Kaylee almost crowed with delight. “Ah, Watson, what people see but do not observe. Forgive me?”
I had to shake my head again at this brash youngling I'd taken under my wing. “You'll return it when your studies are complete?”
“Sure. Just like your sweatshirt.” She pointed to where it again hung in its usual spot on the short rack of clothes pegs by the door. “It's not like you've worn this one anytime recently. And it's better than your sweatshirt for staying out of the way. Besides,...” she held the collar to her nose and sniffed it loudly, “...it gives me inspiration.”
“Still, it looks better on you than me.”
“Not quite yet.” She unbuttoned two more buttons on her front. “Now it makes a statement that is really me.”
That also made it quite obvious she was wearing nothing below it.
I frowned. “Respect?”
She raised an eyebrow. “As much as you respect me for what I want to express with my life?”
“Respect others first to get your own respect.”
She pouted. “OK, compromise.” And she buttoned one back up.
I only shook my head. But I was smiling at her being willing to deal in this fashion, and also about having this new teen-aged friend to share our common interest in writing. “I haven't seen much of you recently.”
“Your library gives me too much homework to study. But I've found so many nuggets I want to go over with you.”
“So, you and Fiona are settling in pretty good?”
“Yeah, she was bustling around the place dusting and cleaning. And talking to herself. That was really odd. But instead of moving into that ground floor library to study, I had her stop and talk to me instead of talking to the house and its dust.”
“What did she have to say?”
“That it was all your fault.”
- - - -
“YOU TWO DO SHARE A lot, don't you?”
She looked at the ceiling like she was adjusting a spreadsheet. “Pretty much everything – yup, everything. Best buds. Cross-generational BFF's.”
“So you already knew everything about her marriage.”
“Yeah – but one thing was left out.”
I waited.
“What about your own marriage?”
“Not much there. We met, got married. She was more interested in her career than building the marriage. So she divorced me and I came back here.”
“Tragic. You should have opened up to her more.”
“My ex-wife or your Aunt?”
“Both. You left off all the gory details.”
“Gory?”
“You know what I mean. You're simply too stuck into being all logical and stuff. Here you are with two Eliza Doolittle's who are wanting to improve themselves, and you go all Professor Higgins on them by staying your stuffy old self.”
That stung. Probably because she was close to the truth. So I rose from my rolling chair and picked up the plate of brownies. Reclining on the far end of the day bed with those brownies and her laptop between us. Safer, I thought.
“You do know that in the original play, Higgins didn't get the girl at the end.”
“Ah, but your own credo is that stories become alive. And live things have to evolve. So by the end of My Fair Lady, they get back together.”
“I think your metaphor is unraveling in front of you.”
“Not so fast, Watson. You've failed to observe that the Higgins in question has already admitted that any person could have several 'soul mates'.”
“Even if they marry someone else?”
“You. My grandma. Her husband. QED.”
“And so you seek the eternal Happily Ever After – but you don't know the ingredients to the cake you are mixing.”
“Mixed metaphor?”
“Goes with cake baking.”
“Which goes right back to Higgins having his own redemption structure.”
That set me back – with a grin. This young girl was a quick study. It was refreshing to have someone to “talk shop” with.
“Yes, Kaylee, you're right. Scrooge didn't transform any of the ghosts who were there for him. So Pygmalion is an alternate redemption model.”
Her eyes rolled. “You and your models. What if the redemption structure is more like a romance? Cute meet, rising tension from being forced apart, obstacles overcome, their re-acquaintance, HEA?”
“Could be – clunky though. The Scrooge model has it's advantages.”
“Yet the Pygmalion model allows for more characters to interact.”
“Look at you – all grown up now.”
“Like I said our first night – I'm 19, give or take a few months. Besides, in one of these notes of yours (and I love having access to all your story notes, by the way) you say that in Roman times, they married and ran nation-wide businesses at 14.”
I had to smile at this – like I was debating with myself. “Alright, Sherlock, where is this story taking us?”
Kaylee adjusted herself, which consisted of scooting her bum over slightly, then pulling another throw pillow to stuff behind her back. And finally she settled on pulling off her boat shoes while keeping her legs crossed Indian-style.
Yes, she looked much better fully dressed. And easier to talk to.
“Alrighty, then, Watson. Here's the notes on this case so far. While our subject has successfully disarmed the Aunt by resolving her marital-loss issues, and also distancing the young misguided strumpet in self-defense, he's yet to disclose his own closet full of skeletons that he's buried deep to avoid their unearthing.”
I chuckled. Way more talent than I'd credited her with. “So, Sherlock, which skeleton should I unearth first?”
She smiled. “Karl, that's up to you. Wait, let me catch up...” She hunched over her keyboard and punched furiously. This tended to disclose some other charms, but that was our agreement, so...
At last she sat back, shoulders erect. “There. Now I'm recording as well. This position is easier to read my notes from, but hell on the back when I have to type. Also, I can free my mind to keep track of the questions and 'interrogate the subject at hand more fruitfully'.”
“Right-O, Sherlock. Where has the quarry taken us today?”
Her grin was contagious, and looked even better on her than my shirt. “You mentioned a person could have more than one true love, that a person could love more than one person at a time. That's obviously from personal experience. So – tell me first about my grandma.”
- - - -
“SHE WAS A REAL LOOKER. Classic Roman nose, but a trim body, well built. We met at a party one night when I was testing out a new pick-up line.”
“Such as?”
“'Kiss me'.”
“I take it that it worked.”
“She came into my arms and never left for months.”
Kaylee's mouth dropped open. “Ooh. This is a chick flick, then.”
“Kinda. She was smart and cute and sexy. Plus we both had a lot of fun 'parking'.”
“Making out.”
“Right.”
“How many bases?”
I stopped and shook my head. “You know this is your grandmother we are talking about.”
“And you know that you are free to leave out details as long as none are pertinent to resolving the case at hand.”
“Fair enough. OK – we always stopped at third.”
“Sounds boring.”
“Well if you are the expert, how many 'home runs' have you scored?”
She flushed from her chest up to her cheeks. “Touché.”
“And...”
“Well... none.”
“And that's where I left your grandma.”
“Because you wanted to and she wouldn't?”
“Because she wanted to and I wouldn't.”
Kaylee sat back, stunned. “What did you say?”
“No.”
“No you won't tell me or...”
“I told her 'no'. And a few weeks later, she broke up with me.” I thought about this for a moment. “That conversation must be the one thing I told her that changed her life.”
Silence reigned as we both digested that idea.
“But Karl, If she wanted and you wanted, then why didn't you go ahead?”
“Just having sex isn't making love. And you have to love someone before you even consider trying to make love to them, with them.”
“You didn't love her?”
“Well, in my own way, I did. But never told her, because I didn't know it myself. But after her, I never found another that filled everything I wanted in a woman, even that one I was married to for awhile. Your grandma was a lot like that last Indy Jones movie your Aunt likes.”
“Aw, that's so mushy. Real chick-flick stuff.”
I smiled and shrugged.
“So, Karl, let me get this straight. That one word was what Grandma held you so highly for?”
“Evidently. We met once after that, one of those 'coincidences', but we were never alone and our talk was about her college and her friends and her studies the next day.”
“And she never wrote you or anything after that?”
“Nope.”
“Wow.”
“So, Sherlock, what do you make of that?”
“Grandma was really straight-laced with me. Set out ground rules and everything. If you think our discussion about how many buttons was something – she'd come right over and button everything up for me – even the collar. But you said she was hot-to-trot with you in your pickup?”
I nodded. “So, how can those two states of existence compare?”
“We have to go with what she kept saying when she mentioned you, that something you said changed her life.”
“All I said was 'no'.”
“Exactly.” Kaylee was frowning, then lightened up. “Exactly! You wouldn't go there with her. So she knew it wasn't because she wasn't hot or wasn't willing to put out...”
“This is your grandma we are talking about...”
“...which could only mean that this was her wake-up call. A tall, good-looking stud turns her down, when he had no reason to. Meaning that she shouldn't be asking to begin with. Tell me: how did she break if off?”
“She said she wanted to start also dating other guys.”
“And you did... what?”
“Quit asking for dates.”
“Right. That's when you both made your choices. You wanted fidelity, she wanted more. But when she wanted to play the field, you cut her off. She loved you, you loved her, but a marriage wasn't an option. So no home run.”
“And so, that changed her life.”
“Evidently. Some things are more valuable than others.”
I nodded, but still didn't see the whole picture. I frowned.
Kaylee just smiled at me. “For someone so smart and experienced, this is hard for you, isn't it? Look – you've been this intense all your life, right?”
I nodded.
“So you'd already done the calculations. Life as a teenager sucked, but there was a lot more to living than just small town Midwest. You had plans to get out of Dodge when the final school bell rang. And if you were committed to a marriage to raise kids, then that wouldn't be possible.”
“And that logic says going to third is as good as I was going to get until I felt set up to deal with a marriage.”
Kaylee beamed. “Right. So when she waffled on you, then you ditched. Because she didn't know what she really wanted out of life, and you had a goal that kept you aloof from committing to serious girl arrangements because that would cut across your plans.”
I just smiled. My life was being unraveled by a precocious young teen who herself was trying to jump my bones just days ago.
- - - -
KAYLEE STUDIED HER laptop notes. “If your logic is to hold, there has to be another femme fatale in your life.”
“Some other girlfriend who dumped me?”
“And you thought of...?”
“OK, there was a girl who was a constant tease. Real looker, and had two or three guys visiting her all the time. Stringing them all along. Anyway, her family moved out of town, and I went to visit her. We had a good time that day and she showed me the sights of the big city.
“That night I was on their couch in her basement, when she came down. She was on top of me before I knew it and soon after, she had no clothes on. I at least still had my jeans on. Both of us very hot and bothered.
“Then at some point, she made an excuse like she had to go – then got up, got dressed, left.
“Later I came back to visit her and she was all cool toward me. Even had some other 'boyfriend' up in the kitchen where I interrupted them. They were only talking, but obviously having him there was to keep me at bay.”
“So?”
“So the next day I left. Never wrote or called her again. Then one day, I get this email from her. Just wanted to touch base with me. Told me all about her life, how she got married, had a kid, became a teacher. And hated me for years, but somehow got over it.”
“Then?”
“She didn't reply to an email, and I dropped it. Never heard from her again.”
“But...?”
“I'd been thinking of her all those years, and every now and then still do. 'A night to remember', as the old phrase goes.”
“Soul mates, after a fact.”
“You sure?”
“You betcha. It fits the model.”
Kaylee looked down at her laptop. “Oh, shucks. This ghost has to flit back to her cavern. My redemption story time here is done. Auntie and I have a chick-flick date tonight. You can come if you want. Yes, you do have some great romances on your network. It's nice to find out that you are such a softy.”
I just shook my head.
Kaylee uncrossed herself, closed her laptop, slipped on her shoes. She put the laptop and plate on my work table, then was quickly on top of me, pinning me back against the far end of the day-bed with one hand in the middle of my chest..
“Kaylee, I...”
A single finger from her free hand came up to silence me. “You are an absolute doll, And your stories have gotten me inspired in so many ways right now that I'll probably have a hard time getting to sleep. Hopefully talking this all out with Auntie and a long romance flick will help.”
At that, she leaned in and gave me a long, deep kiss. Pulling back, she unbuttoned one more while she was leaning over me. And winked.
Then she swiftly rose, picked up her laptop in one hand and a brownie in the other, waving goodbye over her shoulder as the screen door slammed behind her.
She wasn't the only one over-inspired that night.
Earlier in this series:
Available currently as beta-reader edition.
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