Ok.  So I know, I know.  Now that I have a CF blog I should no longer post here. BUT.  But I wrote this vignette a while ago and I'd like to post it today, on Valentine's.  It is, of course, out of order, but not too far off from where I left you with Maggie & Grey if anyon'es all caught up (Danielle?  Maybe?).  But whatevs.  I just wanna, so I'm gunna.  I reserve that right, right? Right.

So Happy Valentine's!

***************

Velvet was happy Grey and Maggie had decided to join them at the main house for the annual Valentine’s Day breakfast.  She would have understood had they decided to keep to themselves in the guest house.  She smiled as she reached for the blackberry preserve.

It was a peculiar holiday to make into a family holiday, she supposed, but it had everything to do with Grey so it seemed fitting that he’d decided to come and had brought his beautiful bride.

Velvet spread a thin layer of preserve across her already buttered toast and sighed contentedly, thinking of her first Valentine’s Day with Jonah.  She’d been a new mother, a divorcee, and pretty newly engaged to boot.  They were still living in the townhouse with the yellow door in the old factory district, still living with Nolan. 

She’d overheard a conversation between the brothers late the night before, while Jonah was up feeding Grey; and Nolan, just getting home from work at the bar, was unwinding and keeping his brother company. It was a comfortable routine.  Velvet lay in bed and listened to their conversation in the common area.  ‘I can take care of a baby for a night, Jones, really, it isn’t a big deal.’ Nolan was insisting.  ‘This is your first Valentine’s’ he’d lectured, trying to convince Jonah to take her out for a proper date.

Grey’d wailed then, for a few moments, and the conversation waited until he’d settled in once again and was suckling on his bottle contentedly.

“He doesn’t look sleepy at all.”  Commented Nolan adoringly.

“He’s a night owl.”  Jonah agreed indulgently.

Velvet loved what softies those two men were for babies.  Maybe because their parents had had their younger brother so late in life.  They were both great with Grey.  She was always grateful for the way Nolan not only adjusted to living with a young couple who were raising a new baby, but actually seemed to enjoy it.  Uncle Nolan was very much a part of their little family. “Maybe he’ll grow up to be a bartender like his Uncle.”  He posited and she heard Jonah chuckle low.

“Thanks, Nole, really, but I think I want to do a family style Valentine’s.”  He said after a few moments of what sounded like Nolan playing some version of peek-a-boo with the baby.

“You sure?”  Nolan sounded skeptical.

“Yeah.”  Jonah’d replied, yawning.  “Breakfast in bed, maybe an indoor picnic, cuddling on the couch and just, whatever she needs.”  He said.  “Besides, you don’t want to miss the bank you’ll make tending bar on Valentine’s.”

Velvet heard Nolan grunt.  “Tell the truth I was kinda looking forward to avoiding all those sad, lonely, desperate girls.”  She heard the water in the kitchen sink and knew he was rinsing his plate and silverware from the microwaved leftovers they’d saved him from their dinner.

“Have breakfast with us, then, in the morning.” Offered Jonah, and Velvet could hear the honest enthusiasm in his voice. 

“Oh, I dunno—“

“Yeah, please? Get up and have breakfast with us as a family.  I’ll make whatever you want.”

“Jones, C’mon, spend it with your family.”  Nolan said gently.

“You’re part of my family.” Jonah insisted.  “Huh, Grey? Don’t you think Uncle Nolan should be present at the first annual Delaney Family Valentine’s Day Breakfast?” Said Jonah, cooing at the months-old baby he was feeding.

Nolan laughed.  “Don’t use the kid as leverage, you asshole.”

“Hey, delicate ears over here.” Jonah said, chuckling.  “Grey thinks you should be there.  And I agree.”

They were quiet for a moment before Nolan said very quietly: “And your fiancée?”

Velvet flushed in the way one does when eavesdropping and the talk turns to oneself.  She tried to make herself even more still than she already was and strained to hear the much-lowered voices.

“She loves you Nolan.” Jonah was saying.  “No, she does—she thinks you’re great and she loves how you are with Grey, Nole, she’d want you there.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day—“

“Yeah, and the last one she had was with that son of a bitch—“

“Hey, impressionable ears!”  Nolan interrupted, teasing.

“ --And I don’t ever want this holiday to remind her of him in the least.  I’m not doing the usual stuff with her on this day.  Not ever.”

“I dunno if you have any control over how she feels or doesn’t feel about the man, my friend.”

“Knock it off.”

“Jonah, just—“

“Just what?  How many times are you going to say it Nolan?  I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I just want you to be careful.” Nolan said with a heavy sigh.  “People can’t just be expected to fall out of love with no strings attached, no confused feelings—“

In the dark of the bedroom she shared with Jonah, Velvet’s mouth fell open at Nolan’s veiled accusation.  And then she washed over cold because of how frighteningly close to the mark he’d come.

 “Nolan, she likes you, why can’t you give her a chance?”

“She’s great!”  Nolan insisted defensively.  “This isn’t about that, this is about you and how I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I love her.” Jonah responded simply.  “She’s going to be my wife.”  He added as Nolan stayed quiet.  “We have a son.”

“He’s pretty great.” Nolan acknowledged, and Velvet could hear the smile in his voice.

Velvet heard the decisive pop of the bottle leaving Grey’s mouth and a contented gurgling.

“All done?” Jonah asked the boy incredulously.  “Think I should give him more?”

After a few moments she heard the refrigerator open.

“Bad luck, Brother.” Nolan said.  “You’ll have to bring him to the source, because you’re out of pumped stuff.”

“Dammit.”  Jonah said in a sing-song sort of voice, clearly entertaining the baby.  “Check the freezer?” She heard a raspberry sound that made the baby chuckle and burble appreciatively.

The Fridge door closed as the freezer door pulled open.

“Yeah.  It’ll take a while to thaw though, even doing the warm water.”  She heard Nolan yawn as he pulled a heavy glass mixing bowl across the surface of the counter and turn on the faucet again.

“Go ahead to bed Nole, I got it.”

“It’s not a problem—“ Another yawn.

Jonah groaned a little as she heard him getting up off the couch with the baby. “Goodnight.” He said, more firmly. “You need a good night’s sleep if you’re gunna get up and have family breakfast with us.”

“Jonesie—“

“Say g’night to Uncle Nole, Grey!”

Nolan had finally grunted his agreement and Velvet had drifted off to sleep sometime later, Jonah still up singing silly little made-up lullabies and playing the simple little games you play with babies, and when she awoke next it was to the heavenly aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon and something cinnamon-y baking in the oven.  And to the sounds of animated, if quiet, conversation and the happy chipper sounds of the baby playing with the electronic light-up toys in his play seat. 

Now, 24 years later, she still got a little misty at the memory of walking out into the open-concept kitchen\living\dining area of the old brick townhouse and experiencing the first-ever Delaney Family Valentine’s Day Breakfast.

“—more, Velvet?” 

Velvet blinked and then flushed slightly.  Whoops.  She’d been caught day-dreaming.  “I’m sorry?”

Jonah stood beside her chair with the glass pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice.  “I asked if you’d like any more.”  He told her gently.  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Wife.” He added quietly, in a way that made her think maybe he knew exactly where she’d wandered off to just then. 

She grinned up at him and then looked around the table at her family.  They were all there—Viola, looking bleary eyed and grumpy as a teenager should, the twins, both in their glasses because it was way too early to think about putting in contacts, Even Avalon had decided to come and she’d somehow convinced Ben of the endeavor, and the handsome young man was enduring it gracefully, she thought.  And, of course, Grey with Maggie. 

Velvet had asked Nolan, when he’d married Zahra, if he would keep coming over to their place—She and Jonah had moved out of the townhouse when they’d married, but he’d made the early morning trip over to their new place annually—for the traditional breakfast.  He’d smiled, said he would miss them very much, but that it was time to start his own family traditions. 

She wondered what that Delaney bunch did on this day.  She’d never thought to inquire.  And Caleb sometimes joined them, but this Valentine’s was especially prickly and he couldn’t be convinced to crawl out of bed this time around to celebrate ‘that idiot cupid’. 

But she had her family, and that made her warm and contented.

“No, thank you, Sweetheart.”  She said in response to the juice query, and he moved around the table to offer to Avalon and Ben.

She listened to Maggie discussing the wedding with Ava, and to the twins teasing their father about the silver at his temples, and to Grey trying to pull his youngest sister out of her moody teenager-y gloom with humor, and she turned to Ben, who was sipping his coffee and casting his glance about, looking for a conversation to join.

She leaned over to him and confided: “I wasn’t a Delaney at my first Delaney Family Valentine’s breakfast either, you know.”

He lowered the coffee mug from his lips and smiled.  “No?”

She shook her head and giggled.  “Grey wasn’t either, I guess, come to think of it.”  She added thoughtfully, realizing that while Jonah’s intent was clear from before Grey’d been born, she hadn’t actually processed the papers until he was around six months old.

“I wasn’t what?”  Grey asked sharply, always able to hear his name when spoken in a crowd.

“A Delaney, at the first Valentine’s day.”  She answered, throwing a contrite look at Jonah who was leaning in to ask Viola about more orange juice, the very idea of which seemed to make the girl faintly ill. 

“Ah.”  Said Grey in response and met eyes with Maggie.   Velvet followed his gaze and saw Maggie nod marginally and nibble her lower lip.  “Funny you should bring that up.”  Grey said, rising from his seat and going to stand behind Maggie’s chair.

The table quieted down and everybody was watching Grey curiously.  Velvet felt a hand on her own shoulder and looked up to see Jonah smiling a little, captivated by Grey.

“Because, this time next year there will be another Delaney with us.”

Velvet looked at Ben for a moment before remembering that Ben wouldn’t become a Delaney, Avalon would be becoming a Sinclair.  She looked back at Grey, who seemed to be locked in a challenging gaze with Jonah, and then at Maggie who didn’t seem able to meet anyone’s eyes.

The hand on her shoulder squeezed gently and she looked up, puzzled.  Then the hand was gone and Jonah was crossing around the breakfast table to where Grey stood, and extending the hand for a shake.  “Congratulations, Son!”  He said warmly “That’s wonderful news!”  Velvet watched him pull Grey into a hearty embrace and then kiss the boy’s cheek before pulling Maggie from her seat, hugging her and bending to kiss her cheek as well.  “Congratulations.”  He said again.

“Thank you.”  Maggie said shyly, still hardly able to keep her eyes off the table. 

“When are you Due?”  Velvet heard Avalon ask sharply.

Maggie looked at Grey, who smiled easily at his sister.  “Summer.”  He replied vaguely, but in a tone that did not invite follow-up.

“Due?”  Velvet heard herself ask. And she felt all eyes upon her, even Maggie’s. 

Jonah chuckled into the tense stillness of the kitchen.  “She’s in shock.”  He said pleasantly. “Can you blame her?  She’s still far too young to be a grandmother.”  He said, crossing back and kissing her atop her head, before whispering in her ear “Love, Our son is going to be a father.”

Her eyebrows lifted in the middle and her mouth opened in an ‘o’.  “Grey?”

Grey met her eyes and his lips quirked into something like a smile, his expression almost bittersweet.  “Surprised?”

“Maggie?”

Maggie blushed and smiled weakly at her mother-in-law and gave a little nod of affirmation.

Velvet knew, for certain, in that moment, that he’d married her because she’d gotten pregnant; and the image of Vaughan Grey’s arrogant, selfish face swam, unbidden, to the forefront of her mind and she quite suddenly began to weep uncontrollably.

“Velvet?”  Jonah’s voice was all concern and Grey’s joined in, “Mum?  Are you alright?”

Soon others at the table were asking, Jonah had Ava put the kettle on for more tea and Velvet felt ridiculous.  It was as if someone had pushed a button and opened floodgates.  She felt foolish and embarrassed and perfectly awful for ruining the big announcement.

“I’m so happy!”  She managed to force out through chattering teeth and sobs, earning nervous laughter from a few parties around the table.  Jonah knelt beside her chair and gathered her against him and she sobbed into his neck.  “I’m so happy.”  She repeated as he patted her back soothingly.

Dimly she was aware that Ben Sinclair had helped ease the awkwardness by getting out of his seat and going over to the opposite side of the table to congratulate the couple, which cued all her daughters to follow suit.

By the time all the family had congratulated them Velvet had managed to get herself mostly under control.  She sat up a little straighter, took her head from her husband’s shoulder and hastily swiped the wetness from her cheeks.  Sniffling and forcing herself to take reasonable breaths she smiled a watery smile at Jonah.  Her rock.  Her everything.  “I’m so sorry.”  She whispered and he smiled.

“Don’t you dare.”  He warned her playfully.  “Now go hug your son and daughter, Grandma.” 

Her eyes widened and she half giggled-half sobbed.  He helped her to her feet and when she was steady she practically flew at Maggie, wrapping the girl in a startlingly fierce embrace.  “This is absolutely wonderful.”  She told the girl passionately, holding her close, wanting to tell her so much more than was appropriate to do so in the kitchen, with all the family gathered around.  “Thank you.”  She said, pulling back enough to look deep into the girl’s dark eyes.  She wondered if the girl was frightened, or regretted her condition.  “Oh Maggie!”  She exhaled.  “I love you so much.”  And she squeezed her again, feeling the bonds of a kindred spirit, even if the poor girl was flummoxed by the overpowering surge of affection.  “And this baby will be everything to you, trust me.”  She said in an almost whisper.

“Gracias.”  Maggie said, reflexively slipping into Spanish with the heightened emotion.  “Thank you.”  She corrected shakily.

Between Jonah’s efforts and Ben’s too, the kitchen was soon bubbling with animated conversations.  Velvet heard the twins arguing playfully about whether it would be a boy or a girl, Viola wondered when, exactly it would be due, and Avalon made some comment about bridesmaid’s dresses. 

Still clinging to Maggie, Velvet felt a hand on her back and knew it wasn’t her husband.  Almost regretfully she released Maggie at last and, with a last reassuring smile that she tried to fill with all the subtext she couldn’t speak just now, Velvet spun to face her son.

He was so tall and handsome and grown up.  He looked like his father, only his eyes, her eyes, were kinder, she was sure of it.  She took his handsome face in her hands and searched those pale green eyes, trying to discover the truth that was eluding her.  “You’ve got to be good to her Grey.”  She told him at last, and she watched his bemused smile dissolve and his face grow serious.

“I know.”  He replied in a low voice.

“Grey—“

“I understand, Mum.”  He said curtly, his brows heavy over his eyes.

She swallowed and felt a trembling in her knees.  She hoped he did understand.  She hoped he would prove to be more Jonah’s son than Vaughan’s.  She pulled him into an embrace too, though this one was more guarded, wary. 

When she broke the hug she hitched a super-bright smile in place and declared with her signature verve: “We’ll have to have a baby shower!”

Wedding Planning

I realized that I haven't posted any fiction at all so far this month :(

So this is a bit of a departure from the main story line.  It's Avalon!  T-minus four months to the wedding!  

This scene takes place the day after the LONG NIGHT dinner scenes, so we're moving right along (since I decided to abandon ship on that bunch o'vignettes!)

Enjoy!

It is brief.

*********************

“Who has Ben asked to fill the extra groomsman spot?”  Avalon’s mother asked, then took a small bite of her field green salad.

It was Monday afternoon and they’d had plans to get together to start planning the invitations and the menu and all manner of other things for the wedding.  However.  Avalon had spent the last half an hour listening to her mother rattle on and on about Maggie and Grey.  Avalon was so damned tired of hearing about, thinking about, pretending to care at all about Maggie and Grey that she thought her head might explode from the effort it was taking not to flip out at her frustratingly clueless mother.

And now?  The first wedding-related question she asks all afternoon and it has to do entirely with Maggie?  Avalon thought she might just lose it.  She calmly lifted her ice water to her lips, wishing it were a soda but soda has too many calories, and she held her features perfectly still while she sipped. 

Ben wouldn’t need to go fishing for an extra groomsman if her mother hadn’t absolutely insisted Avalon include Maggie in the bridal party.  ‘But Ava, darling, she’s your sister now!  She’s family!  You wouldn’t want to exclude family!’

Ugh.  She’d have looked like the world’s biggest bitch if she’d refused.  Even though asking a complete stranger to be in one’s wedding seemed to Avalon to be absolute lunacy.  Apparently if the complete stranger elopes with your stupid bastard of a brother they just have to be a bridesmaid!

“Ethan.”  Avalon replied after swallowing and setting her cool glass back onto the table.

Velvet chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then swallowed, took a drink of her own ice water and smiled that dazzling Velvet Delaney smile.  “Ethan Harcourt?” 

“Mmmhmm.”  Avalon replied dispassionately.

Velvet looked sly.  “But didn’t you and he—“

“Mum.”  Avalon’s brows drew together sharply.

A flash of something mischievous flashed in Velvet’s big pale green eyes and she set her fork down. 

“Does Ben know?”

Avalon licked the inside of her teeth and looked at her mother as sternly as possible.

Her mother giggled in response. 

“This isn’t funny.”  Avalon snapped.

Velvet covered her irrepressible smile with perfectly manicured fingers, but the twinkle in her eyes gave her guilty mirth away.  “I’m so sorry—it’s just—you look so much like your father when you make that face.”  She giggled again before clearing her throat and composing her features into some semblance of calm and appropriate concern.

Avalon picked up her own fork and stabbed ruthlessly at her salad.  She wanted something awful, like pizza or cookies.  She’d kill for a big ole bowl of mashed potatoes with tons of melty butter.  Grimly she opened her mouth to accept the baby spinach, radicchio and kale with just the barest tease of raspberry vinaigrette.

“I’m sorry.”  Velvet repeated, really trying for an expression of compassion or at least sympathy.  “But, does he?  Does Ben know about you and-“

“Yes.”  Avalon answered.  It was half true.  Ben knew she’d dated his good friend Ethan a few times before they’d become a pair.  He even knew that she’d slept with Ethan.  But he really didn’t know the half of it.  And she would prefer it to remain that way.

Her mother knew more than she was strictly comfortable with.  She’d found the pictures on Avalon’s computer one day when she was trying to put together a damned photo album as a surprise present for Jonah’s birthday a few years back.  Stumbling upon those pictures must have been a real eye-opener.  She’d certainly expressed her concerns at the time. 

Now Velvet looked quite astonished.  “He does?”  She was incredulous.

“Mum, drop it.”

Velvet pressed her lips together and Avalon recognized, from a lifetime of seeing her do it, that her mother was struggling very, very hard to control her tongue. 

Just as she always did, Avalon began a silent count in her head, a silent count to see how many Mississippis it would take before Velvet inevitably lost the private little battle and succumbed to her inability to govern her mouth.

One Mississippi.  Two Mississippi.  Three Mississippi.  Four Mississippi.  Five Mississi—

“Has he seen the pictures?!” 

Mother and daughter both paused to sigh out in unison.  Velvet looked apologetic and Avalon tried to feel forgiving.  Afterall, it wasn’t her fault.  The woman was like a giddy child.  All heart and very little self-control.

“I am not discussing this one minute more.”  Avalon replied as civilly as she could manage.  “And you promised you would never mention those pictures again.”

Again Velvet looked apologetic.  She even blushed just a little.  “Sorry.”

Avalon nodded her acceptance of the apology and took another bite of her salad while her mother sipped some more water.  Then Avalon’s eyes flew open wide.  “Oh my god, you didn’t tell Dad, did you?  Oh my god, tell me you never told Dad.  Tell me he doesn’t know—oh jesus, you didn’t show him right?”  Avalon’s mouth was dry and she felt panicky.

Velvet looked stunned.  “No, of course not, no, honey—no, absolutely he has no idea, Av—I wouldn’t do that to you.”  She soothed and assured quickly and with enough conviction that Avalon allowed herself to calm down, to relax.  “No honey.”  Her mother repeated solemnly.  “I love your father and want him around a while longer.  I have no desire to give him a heart attack.”

Avalon’s eyes widened and she gaped at her mother.  The tiniest hint of a smile flitted across Velvet’s oh-so-innocent expression and her pale green eyes danced with merriment.

Avalon burst into laughter.  What else could she do?  Cry about it?  She laughed deeply and fully.  Her mother joined in readily and they laughed for several full minutes before managing to settle back down.

“Have you ever done any of that stuff with Ben?”  Her mother asked suddenly, her voice low and giddy and hungry for juicy gossip.

Avalon was still tingling and merry from the cathartic bout of laughter so instead of getting sour at the probing invasion of privacy, she grinned.  “Wouldn’t you just love to know.”  She teased.

Her mother grinned back.  Avalon waited until her mother had lifted her water glass once more to get her payback.  As her mother sipped Avalon asked casually:  “Have you ever done that stuff with Dad?”

The spit-take was perfect.  Paragon Velvet Delaney expelled a spray of water out over the table with the full force of her surprise and, judging by the smile, her delighted amusement.

Avalon laughed, satisfied with her little victory, and set her salad fork down on the plate now that her meal was covered in a mist of her mother’s spittle.  It was a necessary sacrifice.

“Avalon Grace!”  Her mother responded when she’d stopped giggling.  Then she tisked.  “That’ll teach me, I guess.”

Avalon leaned back in her seat and sighed, knowing that Velvet Delaney would never learn.  She knew her mother would always probe too deeply; ask questions that were far too personal and private.  She was unstoppable and she was tenacious. 

“And I’m not answering one way or the other,”  She said with a coy little smile as she dabbed her face with a napkin.  “But when you’re looking for something old and borrowed, if I were you I’d avoid the trunk in my bedroom closet unless you want to see things you can’t un-see.”

“Ugh!”  Avalon groaned.  “Gross, Mum!”  Velvet was giggling hysterically as she stood and collected their salad plates and shuttled them off to the counter near the sink.  “I wish I could un-hear what you just said!”  She shivered and tried desperately to stop picturing her Mum and Dad doing some of the things she’d been into with Ethan.  Bleck.

“Oh Avalon relax.  There’s nothing that hasn’t been done before.  The ancient Greeks—“

“Mum, please, for God’s sake!”  She was half-laughing but she was very firm in her tone.

“But it’s natural to want to experiment—“

“Holy god, shut your trap, for five minutes, just zip your lips, can you?”  She half-laughed and half wished she were just having a terrible dream.  “I don’t care what you and dad do, I just really really really do not need to know about it.”  She rushed desperately.  “Or think about it.  Or imagine it in any way.”  It was bad enough she’d grown up listening to it from two bedrooms away. 

Her mother giggled again but she relented.  “I hope your children are more accepting of your lovelife then you are of mine.”  She teased pleasantly.

“Let’s talk wedding, please, can we?”

Velvet grinned as she filled the kettle for tea.  “So Ethan Harcourt, hmm?”  She chuckled merrily and moved the kettle over to the stove.  “I wonder what other delightful little surprises we’ll get as this wedding draws nearer!”

Avalon rolled her eyes as she pulled a legal pad and pen from her wedding-planning-canvas-ecofriendly-bag.  No more surprises.  Please?  Pretty please with a cherry on top?

She slapped the pad down on the table and began scribbling down the names of her bridesmaids, junior bridesmaids and flower girls on one side, and on the other she listed the groomsmen, junior usher, and ringbearer.

She frowned at the list.  She’d slept with more of the listed parties than she was strictly comfortable with.  And the other ones were her blood relatives.  Or children.

She rolled her eyes to the heavens.  No more surprises, ok?  No more little speed bumps or screw-ups, or anything like that.  K?  You got that?  Are you hearing this? 

“Hey—“  her mother said, slipping back into her seat and dabbing at the rest of the sprayed water droplets with a dishtowel.  “Does Ben know about you and his cousin?”

Avalon grimaced.  Maybe she should just elope.

“Or, actually, I should say cousins—both of them, right?“

She almost wished they were still talking about goddamn Grey and Maggie.

Sick Day

 Ok folks, taking a step back in time!  I wrote this a while back and really really like it.  There's some stuff that went on years ago that we need to explore and delve into because it plays a role in the present day cedar falls... dun dun dunnnnnnn!

Ok, hope you like...

****************************

Jonah pushed the front door inward and it smacked hard into something that rang and erupted into a jaunty, high-pitched electronic version of ‘The wheels on the Bus’.  He frowned and pushed the door open more carefully.  The foyer was littered with enough toys for an entire preschool.  Furrowing his brows he closed the door behind him.

Somewhere deep in the house an exaggerated eastern European voice could be heard counting to ten and laughing in a vampiric ‘ah-ah-ahh’.

He put his briefcase down next to a rainbow colored xylophone on wheels and started toward the sounds of sesame street when a metallic clatter and a peel of giggles sounded from the direction of the kitchen.  Pocketing his keys and stepping over an orphaned baby doll and a pile of wooden block puzzles, Jonah moved toward whatever mischief was transpiring in the kitchen.

He groaned when he saw the dining room.  Someone had decided to do arts-and-crafts in here.  On the walls, and floor, and, was that?  Yes.  On the cream colored Italian silk upholstery on each and every dining room chair.  The indecently expensive hand woven rug was now decorated with what appeared to be an entire bottle’s worth of Elmer’s glue and confetti, and, oh yes, macaroni elbows too. 

What the hell was going on here?

An A-rhythmic and very insistent metallic banging from the kitchen helped drag his attention from the disastrous dining room.  “Sonuvabitch.”  He said quietly to the spilled fingerpaint kit in the corner by the standing porcelain vase that had been a wedding gift from his parents.  Taking a deep breath he pushed the kitchen door inward almost reluctantly.

“Jesus Christ.”  He said, but it was drowned out by a boisterous clatter and tapping accompanied by a full-lunged, a-tonal, almost unrecognizable version of the alphabet song.  Jonah forced himself to count to ten very slowly--fighting the rapid pace of the amateur drumming--as he surveyed the damage.

Someone had figured out a way around the child proofing.  Every condiment kept below, say four feet, had been removed from the refrigerator and strewn about gloriously throughout the kitchen.  Every single pot and pan and lid they owned seemed to be out of the cabinets and were now serving as an entire percussive symphony for someone.

“Zeeeeeeeeee!”  The voice shrieked triumphantly, followed by a beat of silence and then the enthusiastic sound of self-applause.  “Yeeayyyyy!”

Jonah bit down on his lips to keep from laughing.  When the banging began again he crept toward the kitchen island.  He glanced at the cabinets under the sink—they seemed to be one of the only sets still securely closed and undisturbed by whatever little hurricane had struck the kitchen.

“Eeee-yiiiii eeeee-yyyyyiiiii eeeeey-iiiiiiiyyy!!”  The voice was doing ‘Old Macdonald’ now, as Jonah placed his palms on the kitchen island and slowly leaned over the smooth granite surface to peek.

He’d expected to see a mop of red hair, but what he saw instead was enough to make his jaw fall open.  She was powder white.  All over.  Head to toe.  Covered in a layer of white dust.  As was the floor all around her, and the pots and pans and the wooden spoon she was using to play drums.  Jonah spied an upturned bag of flour by the sliding glass door, along with multiple tracks of various sized footprints heading in and out of the mess.  Holy God.

“Haii!”  His daughter greeted him with a wide grin and he looked her over, unsure whether he wanted to laugh or cry.  What a mess. 

With the crystal clear decisiveness signature to toddlers, she flung the wooden spoon away and scrambled to her feet, eager to run around the island and clamp his pant leg in a full body squeeze.  He wasn’t even quite sure which one she was under all that flour.

“Hi there.”  He said, and when she looked up at him he couldn’t help laughing.  It was even in her eyelashes for god’s sake.  What the hell had happened?  He bent down and swung her high above his head, causing a puff of flour to shake loose from her hair, and a pleased giggle to bubble up from her belly, before setting her firmly on his hip and taking one last inventory of the kitchen.  He opened a few lower cabinets to make sure the other twin wasn’t hiding within, peered under the kitchen table in the breakfast nook—finding evidence that the area had likely been used as a fort or a cave of some kind—and then departed the kitchen in search of the rest of his family.

“You made quite a mess.”  He murmured to the nearly-naked little flour-cloud on his hip.

She made a devilish giggle and kicked her legs eagerly. 

“Yes.”  He agreed with her, “But I think you must have had some help, hmm?”

She tossed her head to the side (another little puff of white powder) and rambled vehemently but mostly incoherently.  He thought he might have heard “Ball” and “Monkey” and possibly “Elmo” among the nonsense syllables, but even those he couldn’t be sure of.

He picked his way carefully through the foyer and stepped into the living room with a euphemistic curse.  “Son of a gun.”  He said through clenched teeth.  He was starting to get worried now.

The potted plants from the large bay window had been overturned and potting soil, like the flour in the kitchen, had been tracked to and fro by tiny feet.  The furniture was strewn with what had been piles of clean laundry when he’d left that morning, and the sofa and chair cushions were nowhere in sight.  In here, like in the foyer, there seemed to be an almost un-navigable maze of miscellaneous toys and playthings.  From small items like blocks and fake plastic food items, to larger items like a tricycle and a pink plastic (kid-sized) shopping cart.  Jonah doubted a single toy remained behind in the toy chests they kept in the den.

He doubled back to the foyer quickly and let out a shaky breath of relief to see that the safety gate was still in place at the base of the stairs.  Thank God.

At this point the girl on his hip decided to perform ‘Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes’, apparently determined to cycle through her entire repertoire, and she was slapping at his head and shoulders with great gusto.  Jonah tried to lean out of her range but she managed to knock his glasses askew on one wild swing and he had to clamp down hard on the insides of his cheeks to keep from cursing.

He was really getting nervous now, and his strides became longer as he headed to the downstairs bathroom.  He said a quick thanks to the fates that they’d decided against a tub in the downstairs bathroom, but he was holding his breath nevertheless.  There were all sorts of ways for a child to manage to do harm in a bathroom.

“Jeeeesus.”  He said when he got close and stepped into a wide, spreading puddle.

“Uh-Oh.”  Said the girl, recognizing a curse when she heard it.

“Uh-oh.”  Jonah echoes absently, taking one splashing, soggy step after another until he reached the door and pushed it open quickly.

The toilet was overflowing (he had anticipated as much), and bubbling up out of it, like an insane fountain in a princess dream, was a dense carpet of fluffy, foamy bubbles, which blanketed not only the toilet but the entire floor of the little room as well.

And there was the other twin.  Naked.  Soaking wet.  Covered in bubbles.  And apparently on cloud nine about it.

The twin on his hip squealed and the one planted among the foam looked up with an answering shriek.

Ok.  Genny was the one in the bubbles, so Vienna was his flour-child.

Vienna started squirming and wriggling to get down as Genny clambered to her feet and crossed to him with her small arms held aloft.  “Up!”  She demanded. “Up!”

Jonah had been a father and an elementary school teacher long enough to know what would happen if he let the two come into contact—he’d have two daughters covered in paste.

So he deftly dodged Genny and crouched down to turn the valve behind the toilet until the water supply was closed.  By this time the water was seeping through his shoes and his socks were getting quite wet.  His daughter had, apparently, done her level best to flush an entire bottle of bubble bath or baby shampoo or something.  Holy hell.  He’s never seen so much foam, outside of a carwash, and he’d certainly never seen it spilling gloriously from a toilet.  He couldn’t help but grin at the absurdity of it.

Genny was doing her level best to climb onto his back or knee or whatever she could manage, and the squirming Vienna was becoming quite irate with his refusal to put her down in the bubbles.  “Up!”  Genny demanded.  “Bubbuhz!”  Whined Vienna.

“Hi Daddy!”  Piped a bright voice from behind him. 

He grunted as he stood, working hard to maintain his balance despite Vienna’s forceful wriggling and Geneva’s tenacious climbing.  He turned to see his four-year-old looking cheerful but disheveled, her hair a mess, her mouth orange (he’d put his money on canned pasta as the likely culprit there), and paint all over her hands and arms and pajamas.  Pajamas?

“Hiya Birdie.”  He responded in as chipper a voice as he could manage.  “What’s uh, what’s the story?”

She looked around at the bubbles with astonishment, took in the sight of her two ragamuffin sisters, and then looked at him with wide purple eyes and a serious expression.  “I didn’t do it.”

Jonah clenched his jaw and ran his tongue over the insides of his teeth.  “Crazy day, huh?”  He inquired, plucking his slippery wisp of a daughter from the field of bubbles and pressing her slick little form to his side as he stepped from the bathroom.

“I made you a picture!”  She told him, sounding enormously excited.

“Thank you.  Did you go to school today?”

“Nope.”  She replied pleasantly as she trailed along in his wake.  “We stayed home sick.”

He paused in his progress just long enough to maneuver the back of his hand to her little forehead.  She didn’t feel warm.  He moved away from her just before Genny would have landed an unwitting kick to the girl’s face.

“We?”  He asked, resuming his steady pace toward the den.  “Who is ‘we’?’

“Me and Grey.”  She answered, and he heard a note of resentment in her voice at the mention of her older brother.

“Grey’s sick?”  He peered into the den where Sesame Street was playing at full volume, where books and toys and sippy cups were strewn about in disarray.  Where a couch cushion fort had been erected over by the piano.  But where there was no sign of his wife or son.

“No, he’s taking care of Mummy.”  Avalon answered, running off toward the art table.  Where arts and crafts were meant to be done.  Where paint and crayons and glue and things of that nature were sanctioned.  Today the art table looked almost pristine.  Because she’d opted to re-locate to the dining room today.

“Where is Mummy?”  He asked, trying not to let the panic he was feeling creep into his voice.  “And where’s your brother?”

Avalon shrugged and began singing along with Ernie, twirling several long ribbons around herself fluidly.

On his right hip Vienna was trying to get his attention with her garbled, mish-mash version of ‘The Itsy Bitsy Spider’, recognizable only because of the upward climbing hand motions; And on his left hip, Genny, not to be outdone, began a very rowdy ‘If You’re Happy and You Know It’.

A sharp throbbing was beginning to gather behind his eyes and his breathing was tight.  He slipped Genny down his side and to the floor despite her urgent renewal of the plea of “Up!”, then crossed to the television set and clicked the ‘down’ volume button furiously.

“Ava-Bird, I want you to do me a big favor please.”  He said as calmly as he could. 

She stopped twirling and singing—she’d detected something serious in his tone.  “Yeah?”

“I need you to keep your sister here with you in the den while I go find Mummy and Grey.  Can I count on you?”

Genny was stomping now and he knew she was likely to have a hell of a tantrum in a matter of moments, and even though Vienna wanted nothing more than to be set down, it just had to be this way unless he wanted flour all over the den as well.

Avalon nodded, solemn in her appointed duty.

“Good girl.”  He told her, and rested his hand on her head for a moment.  “Try and distract her, ok?”

“Ok.”  Avalon began talking in an over-bright, uber-enthusiastic voice to her little wet stormcloud of a sister and was doing her best to engage her in a sing-along as Jonah back-tracked through the den, through the livingroom and into the foyer.

Vienna chattered at him in a very displeased sort of tone.  He recognized, vaguely, that she was scolding him.  He kissed her cheek before her thought about it and inhaled a nose full of flour dust.  He sneezed.  “Bessooooo.”  She declared promptly.

“Thank you.”  He responded with a gentle smile.

Were they upstairs?  He sniffed and adjusted his glasses.  Why on earth would Velvet go upstairs and leave her very young children downstairs?  A lump was forming in his throat, which, in combination with the constriction around his ribs, made the act of breathing an enormous challenge.

“Velvet?”  He called up the stairs.

He heard Genny wail in the den in response to the sound of his voice.  The little girl called out for him plaintively.  He heard Avalon try another tack—“Genny, Genny, let’s color!  Wanna color?!”

No answer from above stairs.

He looked at Vienna, who was looking up the staircase as he had been.  How had all this happened?

He didn’t want to leave Ava alone with Genny for too long, but he needed to go check.  His heart was beating very irregularly and a leaden weight had settled in his gut.  Whatever it was that had facilitated today’s chaotic sequence of events, it wasn’t good.

He lifted one long leg over the child-safety gate, gripped the railing and pulled the other over carefully.  It wasn’t so easy with a kid on his hip. Then he mounted the stairs with enough speed to illicit a breathless “Wheee!” from his daughter.  He wondered, for half a second, if they’d trailed a cloud of white powder behind them on the way up.

When he reached the top landing his son appeared before him.

“Grey!”  He said, a measure of relief spreading through him at the sight of the boy, who looked just fine.  “Been looking for you, Buddy.”

“Mum is sick.”  He responded without preamble.  His seven-year-old face was drawn and pale with concern.  He was frowning and looking much more mature than any second grader had business looking.

Ok.  Something was wrong with Velvet.  He swallowed.  Maybe very wrong.  “How about you, son?  You ok?”

Grey looked impatient.  “I’m fine.”  He said hurriedly.  “Mum is really sick though.”

Jonah squeezed the boy’s shoulder firmly.  “Where is she?”

Grey spun on his heel and Jonah followed without delay.  He led his father to the master bedroom.  The first thing Jonah saw was blood on the sheets.  He stopped functioning for a minute and went clammy all over.

He slipped Genny down and forced her hand into Grey’s.  “Hold her.”  He managed to say.

The door to the master bathroom was ajar and Jonah moved toward it, hardly aware of the steps it took to cross.  He pushed open the door very slowly.

His heart surely skipped several beats. 

She was curled up on the bathroom floor, in the fetal position, a pillow from Grey’s bed cushioning her head, a wadded up towel between her legs, the toilet seat up and ready, he imagined, for vomit.  She was paler than he’d ever seen her, and her underarms were dark with perspiration.  Her hair was pulled back in a hectic ponytail and the dark circles under her eyes were alarming in their severity.

“Velvet?”  He croaked.

She lay quite still.  He was frozen.  He watched her torso for a moment and was able to see her small frame lift and fall with inhalations and exhalations.  Thank god in heaven. 

“Velvet.”  Jonah repeated sternly, still rooted to the floor just outside the bathroom.

Her eyes fluttered.

“Mumma!”  Vienna called.

“Don’t let her come over here.”  Jonah said sharply to Grey.

Velvet’s eyes fluttered again and finally opened.  She looked faraway and dazed.  “Grey?”

Jonah crossed to her then, knelt beside her, and put a hand to her forehead.  Warmer than he’d like.   “Velvet, sweetheart, it’s Jonah.”

“Jonah.”  She murmured her voice as weak as a mewling kitten.

“Angel, baby, what’s going on?”  He urged her, his voice thick with emotion and ringing with panic.

“Told him not to call you—“

“I’m home now love, I’m here now, just talk to me.”  He ran his eyes over her and discerned the likely source of the blood. 

She fell quiet for a long moment.  Outside the bathroom in the master bedroom Grey was blocking his baby sister’s attempts to get to her parents.  He wasn’t doing it kindly, but Jonah could hardly be bothered by that at the moment.

“Grey—put her in the nursery, shut the door, and get the phone please.”

“She told me I couldn’t call you—“  He said, sounding angry and afraid and ashamed.  “She said I wasn’t allowed to call 911 either.”

Jonah closed his eyes.  “It’s ok Buddy, just do what I say now, alright?  Put your sister in the nursery for a minute, make sure the door’s closed tight, and run and get the phone please.”

Grey didn’t respond verbally but Jonah heard the unmistakable sounds of a toddler getting half-carried, half-dragged down the hall kicking and screaming.

He re-opened his eyes and stared helplessly at his wife.  He stroked her cheek and rubbed her back gently.  “Velvet, baby, talk to me.”

Her wide green eyes peered up at him and he read sorrow in them.  “I think… I think I might be pregnant?”  She more asked it than stated it.

Jonah thought about the blood on the sheets and cast a quick glance at the blood on the towel between her legs and he wasn’t so sure she was still pregnant, but she very likely had been.

“Ok.”  He said gently, rubbing her back in a soothing rhythmic pattern.  “Ok, well, don’t you worry about a thing sweetheart.”  He crooned.  “We’re gunna get you to the doctor’s right away, ok?”

She shivered all over and his heart twisted dramatically in his chest.  “Can you sit?  Do you think?  If I help you?”  He asked.

She looked disinclined to such a course of action.  “I don’t feel so hot.”

He snorted at the euphemism.  “I know, love, but we gotta get you up and to the doctor, ok?”

She shook her head and crinkled her brow.

“Yes.”  He insisted.

“Here.”  Said a breathless voice behind him.

Jonah turned and took the cordless bedroom phone from his son’s outstretched hand.  “Good work, thank you.”   He said.  “Stay here a minute please.”  Grey looked as though he hadn’t planned on going anywhere, no matter what Jonah said.

Jonah dialed Nolan.  Not at home.  He didn’t have time to track him down.  He dialed the next person he knew he could count on. 

Grace answered on the third ring. 

“I need you to come over and watch the kids.”  He stated before she’d even finished her greeting.

“Jones?  What’s going on?”  She was instantly alert, immediately receptive.

“Please—I need to get Velvet to the hospital.”

“I’ll be right there.”  She answered without hesitation.

“Thank you.”

He hung up and dialed Sam’s office. 

The secretary put him through rather quickly when he told her it was an emergency.  “This is Dr. Bennett.”

“Sam, Velvet’s been bleeding—I think she may be… pregnant—“  He euphemized neatly.  “She’s, she’s not doing well here.  I’m bringing her to the hospital.”  Jonah had avoided saying ‘miscarriage’ because he didn’t want to upset his wife or his son—though he doubted Grey knew what a miscarriage was, and the boy looked plenty upset already by the prospect of his mother having to go to the hospital.

“How long and how much?”  Sam asked soberly.

“I just got home.”  Jonah said, his body beginning to shake with the panic flooding through him.  “A lot.  A, uh, a fair amount here Sam.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“Thank you.”

Jonah’s thumb punched the button to hang up and he pressed the firm plastic against his lips for a long moment.  He could hear his two year old stomping around in the nursery, throwing a fit.  He’d venture a guess that they hadn’t napped today.

He put the phone on the tiled floor and held out his hand to Grey.  Grey scowled and looked very serious.  Jonah opened and closed his hand several times wordlessly.  After a long deliberation Grey finally slipped his hand into his dad’s.

Jonah closed his fingers around his son’s small hand and pulled him into a fierce one-armed hug.  “I’m so proud of you for taking care of your mother today.”  He said passionately.

Grey grunted.  “I tried.”  He was trying hard not to whine by covering his anxiety with a forced gruffness.  “I made her soup and brought her water and crackers and a pillow.”  Grey was allowed to use the microwave.  Jonah would bet he’d also made the canned pasta lunch that had given Avalon an orange mustache.  And he’d probably had to feed the twins too.  Jesus.

“You did a great job.”  Jonah affirmed, pulling him back to look him in the face.

“But she just kept throwing up all the time.”  Grey lamented, his big green eyes flicking over to where his mother lay quite still and pale on the bathroom floor.

“Hey, look at me.”  Jonah said gently but firmly.  Grey did.  The boy was scared to death.  Jonah could empathize.  “You did a great job.  I’m proud of you.”  His son’s lower lip trembled just a bit and then he shrugged dismissively.  Jonah planted a kiss on his forehead.  “And you helped take care of your sisters, too, didn’t you?”

He nodded grimly.  “I tried to give them lots to play with so mummy wouldn’t have to get up.”

“That was smart thinking.”  Jonah said kindly. 

“And I made lunch too.”

“Impressive.”  He said.  “Thank you for being such a good big-brother.”

“Is she dying?”  He demanded suddenly, looking angry and terrified all at once.

Jonah fixed him with an earnest, steady stare.  “No.”  He told him plainly.  “Your mother is going to be ok.”  He continued.  “You took very good care of her for me, and because of that she’s going to get well very soon.”

Grey dragged in a shuddering breath and sighed it out.  His lowered brows and his frown remained unwavering.

Vienna was banging her head or feet against the nursery door.  Jonah squeezed his son’s hand reassuringly.  “Now, son, I need you to keep being a great big brother and bring Vee downstairs, ok?  Be careful with her on the stairs, you hear me?”  Grey nodded reluctantly.  “Ok, good.  You bring her down while I get Mummy dressed and ready to go.”  Jonah no longer gave a flying fuck about where his daughter might trail flour.  “And then wait downstairs and let Aunt Grace in as soon as she gets here—got it?”

Grey nodded once, firmly. 

Jonah cupped the boy’s cheek and smiled a soft, sad smile.  “I love you.”

“Loveyoutoo.”  Grey mumbled and, with one last baleful glance at his mother, hurried out of the bathroom and to his appointed tasks.

Jonah turned back to his wife.  She was awake and watching him with watery eyes.

“What is it?”  He asked quickly.  “Are you in pain?”

She shook her head weakly.  “You’re the best dad—“

He shook his head as he adjusted his body and slipped one arm below her legs just above the knees, and one around her back an under her arms.  “Can you put your arms around my neck sweetheart?”

She tried, but they fell back limply.  He tried not to think about how serious her condition was, why she was so very weak.  He maneuvered as gently as he could, so as not to jostle her, and stood with her bundled in his arms.

He’d never been so afraid in all his life.

Long Night; Part 10

Good morning! Happy Saturday!

I have to go to professional development today! Something called NEDS. Sounds like a schmuck, doesn't it? I', sure you can't wait to hear all about the riveting world of an after-school care educator!

But i get paid to go, and apparently there will be breakfast pastries, so off i go! The saving grace is that I get to go with Aaron. If this were some theatre teacher conference i could bet on having more fun and caring more about the shit, and maybe seeing some old friends, but at least here i get to be with my bestie (and, incidentally, the man who gave it to me but good last night when Eric & Gina went out for a couple hours to see eric's friends--score for me!!).

So before I depart for fucking WAYLAND MA (where????), let me put up part 10.

This is Ben. Danielle had a question about Mr. Sinclair. Here you find out a smidgen more.

Short but loaded with some ammo.

See you all on the flip side of NEDS!

****************

Ben tried not to know too much about other people’s sex lives.  He wasn’t a prude or anything, he just, that stuff was private.  He especially disliked knowing anything at all about his parent’s sex lives.  He always got red around the collar whenever his mother made ribald jokes—which is something she had the tendency to do around Jonah and Velvet Delaney.

He remembered their family vacations with the Delaneys as distinctly awkward for him because of the easy camaraderie between the three adults.  They teased eachother mercilessly, threaded everything with double entendres, and if they’d had just a little too much to drink they started getting very frank on topics Ben would rather never even imagine his mother discussing, let alone overhear it.

And he’d often had occasion to wonder about just how close the three of them really were.  The summer they’d all gone to the Bennett cabin upstate, the summer he’d turned thirteen, Grey had alluded to the notion that perhaps their parents liked to bunk together when everyone else had gone to sleep.  Ben knew Grey’d said it to get a rise out of him, to needle him, and he’d laughed it off.  Dismissed it.  Pretended it hadn’t bothered him.

But ever since then he’d wondered.  They were, all three of them, best friends.  Could it be out of the realm of possibility?  He really didn’t like thinking about it.  He already knew more than he’d like to about his father’s affairs.  He’d known too much about all that from about the age of five.  And perhaps the most uncomfortable thought of all was the notion that maybe he couldn’t blame his mother for seeking a physical arrangement outside of her marriage.  It baffled him that his parents were still married, actually.

But the idea of her engaging in those activities with Velvet and Jonah made him feel uneasy.  He’d been raised to think of them as his aunt and uncle.  Thinking of his mother with them felt way too close to incest.  It was weird.  They were going to be his parents-in-law for Christ’s sake!

So when he bounded up to the open front door of the Delaney mansion and heard Velvet commenting about his mother’s ass and about spankings in that very suggestive tone of voice, he just wasn’t able to maintain his composure.  He felt like an ass for blushing like a schoolboy, especially when they laughed at his discomfort, but it was quite beyond him to control his gut reaction to their flirting.  He hoped they would refrain from playing that particular pet game this evening.  The evening promised to be long enough without that fun little repartee that made his skin crawl and his ears burn.

He hung the coats in the closet and was grateful his father had taken the hint and opted not to attend.  The tension that sparked between Holden and Jonah in confined spaces was enough to give Ben a sour stomach.  He often wondered how the two of them would conduct themselves at the wedding.  He was comforted by the fact that Jonah Delaney was an upright fellow.  The best man he knew, really, and that he could be counted on to behave like a gentleman.

But there was going to be open bar and Ben’s dad was not a merry drunk.  Holden Sinclair liked to pick fights when he was drunk.  And worse, he liked to brag about his conquests and he liked to hit on young women.  Ben knew Jonah well enough to know that the man would not be able to tolerate Holden disrespecting Grace in his presence.  Ben often wished he and Avalon could elope.

He closed the closet door with a sigh and moved to check his hair in the mirror.  He was displeased to see that his cheeks were still slightly stained with high color.

“You look good enough to eat.”  Avalon’s voice purred from the dining room archway.

He smiled and turned to face her.  His eyes scanned her from her toes to her eyes.  “And you look pretty darn delicious yourself.”  He murmured appreciatively. 

She smiled and moved toward him with a small laugh.  “I could kill you for being so late.”  She cautioned him even as she moved into his waiting arms.  “It’s been a damned nightmare here without you.”

He gave her a sympathetic look and then kissed her deeply.  “That help at all?”  He asked when they drew back to look at one another.

She smiled briefly and then frowned, her eyes doing a quick scan of the foyer before fixing him with an intense purple stare.  “Gideon was cheating on my uncle.”  She told him in a quiet but fierce tone of voice. 

Ben was stunned.  “Oh no.”  He said, a rush of sympathy chasing the shock.

“And my sister’s boyfriend just broke up with her because he’s ‘met someone else’.”  She said.  Ben registered the accusatory edge to her words, but chose not to respond to it.

“That singer?”  He asked.  Ben had figured that guy for a sleaze from the get-go.

“Is there anything you need to tell me?”  She asked, her body going stiff in his arms, her lips getting thin, and one dark eyebrow lifting expectantly.

Jesus.  This was the last thing he wanted to do this evening.

“That I love you, and adore you, and that I can’t wait till you’re my wife?”  He asked with a soft smile.  He did not want to be dragged into one of her flights of unfounded jealousy.

“My grandmother says all men cheat.”  She said without acknowledging his warm sentiment.

Ben’s smile fell and he clenched his jaw.  “Your grandmother is wrong.”  He said firmly.  Many less polite comments leapt to mind, but he held his tongue.

“She’s also been kind enough to remind me about what a brazen philanderer you father is.”  She added, a hint of a challenge in those violet eyes of hers.

Ben kept his features as passive as he was able while roundly cursing that old bitch up and down in his head.  “I am not my father.”  He said after a heavy moment of silence.  He was sensitive about the issue.  He felt as though every girl he’d ever dated had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for him to look too long at a passing waitress, waiting for suspicious e-mails or texts, waiting for him to follow some genetic path to infidelity.

And if the girls weren’t bad enough, their parents were worse.  Even Jonah had changed toward him when he’s started dating Avalon.  Uncle Jonah, the man he’d looked up to all his life, the man he considered his role model and mentor.  The man he’d wished was his real father on more than one occasion, though he’d never tell that to another living soul as long as he lived.  That Jonah.  Had suddenly become somewhat aloof, distant, and Ben couldn’t deny it, he’d become extremely protective of his daughter.

Ben started calling him Mr. Delaney more often than Jonah or Uncle, and he’d lost a lot of the camaraderie they’d once enjoyed.  Only when Ben had gone to the man to ask for Avalon’s hand in marriage did the relationship begin to revert back to the way it had been.  They’d had a very long, somewhat awkward, but overall cathartic talk, man-to-man, in his study, and since then things had been getting a lot better—slowly but surely.

“If you ever cheat on me—“  She began.

Ben dropped his arms from around her.  “Don’t.”  he told her, his voice a clear warning.

Avalon Delaney did not respond well to warnings, threats, or ultimatums.

“Don’t?!”  She hissed.  “Don’t what, stand up for myself?  Don’t call you out?  Don’t pretend you’re not a man just like every other cheating piece of—“

“Avalon, I’m not the one who’s cheated.”  He said, desperate and yes, angry.  He shouldn’t have said it.  He regretted the words as they left his lips.

She froze.  He already felt awful. 

“You swore you were over that.”  She whispered.

“I am.  I’m sorry—“

“You said you forgave me.  How many times do I have to apologize for it?  What do I have to do to make you forget it?”  Tears were welling up in her beautiful eyes and he wished he could punch himself in the jaw for causing her this pain.

“I’m an ass.”  He said, reaching for her, but she turned away.  “I’m so sorry angel, please, look at me.”

He watched her shake her head and cross her arms.  She was putting on the armor.

“I guess I’ll just never be good enough for you, right?”

“Ava, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me—please honey, look at me.  I love you.  Please.  I’m so, so, so sorry I brought that up.  I’m an idiot.  It was small and cheap of me.”  He placed a cautious hand on her shoulder.  She shrugged it off and moved a few more steps away from him.

“Whatever.”  She said, her voice rigid and unforgiving.  “Let’s just slap happy smiles on our face and get through tonight.  If you still have doubts about me we’ll call off the wedding, but let’s have the courtesy to wait until after this goddamn dinner.”

Then, without looking back at him, she strode out of the foyer toward the living room.

Ben rand a hand over his face from scalp to neck and stared blankly at the magnificent staircase before him.  What a nightmare.  This was going to be an excruciatingly long night.