The Confession (19 page)

“How are you doing?” Mark asked, walking up behind her.

Startled, she turned at the sound of his voice. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there staring into space. “I’m okay. Just a little tired. I don’t know where to begin to thank you for all you’ve done today.”

“You can take me for a walk,” he said, wrapping her sweater around her shoulders and leading her to the front door. “I think we could both use some fresh air.”

She smiled appreciatively at him, and silently walked into the fading sunlight. He took her hand in his and walked beside her down the long driveway. They didn’t speak. He left her to her own thoughts, and she was grateful he somehow knew that was exactly what she needed.

She fought the sadness that cropped up knowing this time with him was only temporary. Even as she told herself to enjoy the time she had, she wanted more.

He stopped at the end of the driveway and bending over, picked a white lily that grew wild along the side of the road. He handed it to her, studied her face, saying nothing. Unsure of what to make of the gesture, or the look in his eyes, she could only gaze back at him. He reached up his hand and gently brushed his thumb across her cheek. Her head bent to the side, drawing her closer to his palm until her cheek was cradled there. He stepped closer, and moving his hand slowly to the back of her neck, he pulled her in and lightly brushed his lips across hers.

The world began to spin as his body moved in closer, pulling her tightly against his chest as his lips applied more pressure. His teeth softly raked her bottom lip as a soft moan escaped them. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gently ran her tongue along his lower lip. He deepened their kiss, both of them breathless but refusing to pull back for air.

A passing car broke through the quiet, startling them both as they leapt back and turned toward the sound.

“I totally forgot the attorney was coming today to read the will.” She looked up at him, wanting to crawl back into his arms.

He stood there for a moment, saying nothing, and she wished she could read his thoughts. The clouds lifted from his eyes when he finally spoke. “Emily and I are staying at the Ritz-Carlton tonight and flying out tomorrow. Will you be alright?”

She nodded her head. She didn’t want him to go, but she knew she couldn’t ask him to stay.

“Come on, I’ll take you back.”

They turned and headed back to the house. She lifted the lily to her nose and drew in its light scent. She buried her smile into its soft petals when he gently took her hand in his once again.

After everyone left, Joan emerged from her room and sat quietly next to her sister at the kitchen table. Louie Smith sat across from them and opened the file in front of him. He perched his glasses on his nose and looked down. He looked up again, a terrible sadness filling his eyes as he focused on Aimee. Louie had been their family’s attorney for as long as she could remember. Her mother had sat in the same spot when he’d read her father’s will.

Assuming he was saddened by their mother’s death, both girls encouraged him to continue, affirming they were ready.

With one last pained look at Aimee, he looked down and read one sentence. “I, Linda Marie Morrison, being of sound mind and body, leave all of my worldly goods to my daughter, Joan Marie Morrison.”

The room was silent. The ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway sounded like the banging of a drum. Aimee looked over at Joan. She looked triumphant, her shoulders erect with pride. Aimee felt as if she’d been slapped when Joan actually uttered, “Ha!”

Louie was scowling at Joan, his disapproval clear. He turned to Aimee, his tone conveyed his concern. “Aimee, your mother left me a very desperate sounding message that she wished to change her will. She passed before I was able to meet with her, but I believe she was adding you as a beneficiary. If you choose to challenge this, I will testify to my belief as well as to the call I received from her.”

She reached over and placed her hand over his. She smiled at him reassuringly. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I have no plans to contest the will.”

Joan glared at him. “She wouldn’t win in court and she knows it. She shouldn’t get anything. She doesn’t deserve it. They weren’t her parents and she has no appreciation for the years they cared for her anyway.”

Aimee could feel her calm slip. The room seemed to heat up, her teeth clenched, and her heart felt like it had stopped beating. She stood, feeling like she was moving in slow motion. Resembling a sound through a tunnel, she could hear Joan still speaking, her long red fingernail pointed at her, her eyes filled with hate. Joan rose from her chair, and stepped closer to her, her words coming through like a radio in need of tuning.

“ … never wanted you.”

Aimee stepped back.

“ … just a burden.”

Aimee pulled back her hand and slapped her sister with all the pain and anger she’d buried inside. Her hand stung, yet ached to strike again. She clenched her teeth, fighting for control. She inhaled deeply, her eyes locked with Joan’s. Her sister’s eyes were wide with shock, her hand impulsively covering her now reddened cheek.

Joan lifted her hand. Aimee reached out and grabbed her wrist, her eyes narrowed with warning. As she let go, Joan slowly lowered her hand.

“Don’t speak to me again about things you know nothing about.” Aimee spoke slow and precise. “I won’t contest the will. I have no doubt that mother left you everything because she knew you were incapable of taking care of yourself.” She could feel her anger subsiding, and in its place, an odd sense of freedom. “You are the type of woman who has no pride, or self-respect. You have a sense of entitlement that is unrealistic, but you’re not intelligent enough to see you suffer from it. You’re mean spirited and selfish, yet you wonder why you can’t find someone to love you once they really get to know you. I pity you, Joan.”

Joan stood there, her mouth agape, her arms limp against her sides. Aimee stepped around the table to an equally surprised Louie.

She held out her hand to shake his. “Thank you for everything. I will make sure your office has the information it needs to reach me if necessary.”

He shook her hand before pulling her into his arms for a friendly embrace. “I’ve known you since you were as tall as my knees. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I have to say, I like it.” He looked at her intently. “Be happy, Aimee.”

She smiled, kissed his cheek, and walked purposefully from the kitchen and up the stairs. Walking into the room she’d slept in for most of her life, she pulled her suitcase from under the bed and began to pack. She took the teddy bear from her father off the shelf and placed him in the suitcase next to her framed college diploma. She focused on the task, attempting to avoid any remorse for the memories that were surrounding her.

She walked across the hall and into the bathroom she’d shared with her sister. She scooped the bottles into her arms and walked back out, turning off the light. She paused in the hallway and looked at the photographs hanging in wooden frames on the wall. The memories flooded back, another life, another time, someone else’s life.

She closed the lid to her suitcase and reached for her purse. Looking up, she noticed Joan standing in the doorway, watching her smugly.

“I can understand you’re angry, and because of that I’ll forgive you for the hateful things you said about me, and about my mother. Now that everything belongs to me, I’m giving you my permission to take a token or two if you want.”

Aimee didn’t respond. She brushed past her, stopping again in the hallway. She looked around for the last time, her eyes lingering on the closed door of her parents’ room. She set her suitcase down and walked over to open the door, her sister directly on her heels.

She walked straight to the dresser and picked up the silver framed photograph of her father on the beach. She walked over to the bookshelf on the opposite side of the room and slid out the photo album containing all of her baby pictures. Tucking the items under her arm, she walked out, and picked up her suitcase.

She turned around and faced her sister, knowing there was nothing left for her here. “Goodbye, Joan.”

She walked down the stairs and out the front door for the last time.

Mark took a sip of his drink and kicked his feet up on the ottoman in front of him. He was glad he’d come, glad he’d been able to be here for her when she needed him. But now, seeing her as a daughter, a friend, outside the position of assistant, or neighbor, he felt even more drawn to her. He couldn’t get her out of his mind, and he knew he was in for another sleepless night.

The hotel phone rang. Startled, he jumped, spilling part of his drink down the front of his shirt. Cursing, he set his drink down, and discarded his shirt before picking up the phone.

“Yes, hello,” he snapped in irritation.

“We’re sorry to bother you Mr. Lee, but there is an Aimee Morrison at the front desk wishing to see you.”

He sucked in a breath and shook his head as if to clear it. He glanced over at his glass, trying to determine how much he’d actually drank.

“Aimee Morrison is here? In the lobby?” he stuttered.

“Yes sir.”

“I’ll be right down.”

He hung up the receiver and threw a clean shirt over his head. He wondered what she was doing here. He certainly hadn’t expected to hear from her again tonight. His palms felt sweaty as he walked over to the mirror above the dresser. He ran his hands through his hair, and straightened his t-shirt. He was acting like a silly teenager at the simple mention of her name. “Get it together. She’s only a girl, and a complication you don’t need,” he told his reflection.

Grabbing his room key, he headed to the elevator and down to the main floor. The minute the door opened, he saw her. The weight of the day showed on her face. She looked sad, lost. She was holding onto the handle of her suitcase, nervously tapping the toe of her shoe. He could feel the butterflies kick up in his stomach, as he walked toward her.

Spotting him, she froze, looked down at the floor and then turned to him. “I’m sorry, Mark. I’m not sure exactly why I’m here. I wanted to go back with you and Emily to San Francisco tomorrow.” She swallowed, hung her head, and resumed staring at the floor. He could see she was trying not to cry. “I probably should have just called to find out what time you were leaving, but I needed to get out of that house.” She looked up at him again, unshed tears pooling in her eyes. “I … I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

He reached over and grabbed the handle to her suitcase with one hand, and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders. Without saying a word he pushed the button for the elevator.

The metal doors slid open on floor eight. Neither uttered a word as they walked the long hallway to his room, or when he slipped his card into the lock. He held the door for her to enter, watching her face intently.

When she smiled at him, he felt the earth shift. Her heart was in her eyes, and he was certain in that moment, her heart belonged to him. He tried to identify the feelings coursing through him at the realization. Fear, hope, and uncertainty, those three were clear. But there was another feeling that was harder to understand, almost impossible to put into words. He caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the mirror behind her. His eyes replicated hers. It was only then he understood what these new feelings truly were. He was in love with her.

He fought the urge to run from the room as she stood in front of him, watching him curiously.

“Mark, are you all right?” she asked, reaching out to touch him.

He nodded his head, unwilling to test his ability to speak. This was nothing he’d ever experienced, and nothing he wanted. He knew the pain loving someone brought. So why did he feel the need to pull her closer when he should want to push her away?

He could sense her uncertainty as she stood silently before him. His need for her was growing with each minute that passed. Stepping forward, he slid her purse strap from her shoulder and set it on the chair beside him.

Never taking his eyes from hers, he ran his fingers through her hair and pulled her closer. When her eyes fluttered closed he lowered his mouth to hers. Forgetting his fears and giving into his longing, he kissed her with everything he felt. She moaned beneath his kiss, causing the beating of his heart to increase its pace. Her arms came around him, pulling him in, closing the final inch that separated them.

Her mouth grew more insistent, her tongue exploring his. His fingers locked onto the zipper of her dress and he slowly lowered it, letting his fingers run down the length of her back as each inch was exposed. She lifted the edge of his shirt, her hands gently stroking his bare back.

Tearing his mouth from hers, he stepped back. Her eyes were still closed. Reaching over, he turned off the overhead light, leaving only the soft light from the lamp next to the bed to illuminate them.

Her eyes fluttered open, watching him, her desire evident. He reached over and slid her dress from her shoulders. It fell effortlessly to the floor. His breath caught as he took in the vision of her in only black lace and high heels.

She slipped out of her shoes and stepping forward, reached over to slip his shirt over his head, running her lips over the contours of his chest. She traced his pecks with her tongue, and nibbled gently on his nipples. Her hands roamed freely, softly caressing his back, his sides, and running slowly along the waistband of his slacks.

His control slipping, he grasped her hands in his and stepped back enough to stop the sweet torment her hands were bringing his body.

“I want to see you. All of you,” he said breathlessly.

Her eyes locked on his and the corners of her mouth curled up in a seductive smile. She reached behind her and he instinctively reached over to stop her. He shook his head. She stood still as a statue, her breath coming out in little wisps as he laid one hand on her shoulder and slowly circled around her.

Standing behind her, he ran his hands softly from her shoulders, stroking the length of her back. He ran his hands up again, unclasping her bra. He ran his fingers under the straps, over her shoulders and down the length of her arms, pulling it from her. He let if fall to the floor. Stepping closer, he rested his chest against her back and ran his hands slowly along the curve of her hips, over her stomach, and along the sides of her breasts.