He stood under the shower and tried to think. What he had done last night…what they had done…was it a good thing or a bad thing? It was certainly a good thing from a physical standpoint. It had been six long months since he had felt the pleasure of anything but his own hand. And this…this body to body with nothing between them…it had been heaven.
Nothing between them meant no protection, of course. He thought about that for a moment. He had had that drilled into him from the first sex talk he’d ever received. Big Brother Kevin, of course! Never without protection. Never, never, never! Nick thought it over. He wasn’t too worried. Abby said she’d never done it without a condom either, and he figured that she had a lot more at risk than he did. He didn’t figure she’d had as many partners as he had.
Ronni. The name flitted across his mind.
Oh, Ronni!
She’d actually loved the condoms; she’d made them a feature part of their sexual encounters. She bought flavored ones and tasted them often. She made putting one on him an integral part of the act and drove him to distraction sometimes with her deliberate slowness.
He’d thought about her last night after he…after they…when they lay curled together. He’d thought about how Abby wasn’t as good, or at least as practiced, as Ronni. Of course, it had been a bit of an unplanned event on all sides. He wasn’t sure that he had performed at his best either. It was definitely an act of desperation on both their parts. They both wanted something very badly. Now they just had to figure out what it was.
Nick wondered what Abby was thinking. He guessed the only way to find that out was to ask her. Maybe during dinner, he laughed to himself. Not at all inappropriate. Then he sobered. Speaking of inappropriate…he had almost said Ronni’s name when he climaxed. Force of habit. He had said it every time he had come for the last six months, even though she had been half a continent away. Well, there was a habit he was going to have to get rid of! Because if he and Abby did this again…
Nick turned off the water and climbed out of the shower. As he was toweling himself off, he came to one strong conclusion. The thing between him and Abby was working and he wanted to keep it that way. He had moved the thing along in the public arena this weekend. He knew if he checked the Internet, he’d find some mention of them being out yesterday. He didn’t know how to ask Abby if they could do that without seeming arrogant or calculating, but he knew that it was out there. He had brought this relationship to the point he wanted. Now he just had to get out of town safely without having it blow up in his face.
Nick got dressed and crept downstairs. There was no one in Abby’s sitting room when he went past. There was no one in the living room or dining room. There were chafing dishes on the sideboard as there had been the day before. Breakfast was a help-yourself meal at the Fremonts, at least on the holidays.
Nick poured himself a cup of coffee and set it down at his place at the table. The napkins and cutlery were missing from the other three places, so he assumed they had eaten and were gone somewhere. He started to feel uncomfortable. He was alone in someone else’s house. He got some orange juice and drank it down while he lifted the lids on the dishes. He went to set the empty glass down on the sideboard and he realized that he had probably done something incredibly rude, drinking juice standing up. Now he was feeling paranoid and guilty, and he didn’t like it.
He got a plateful of scrambled eggs and bacon. He picked two toast halves out, even though they were no longer hot and crisp. No bread. He could hear Luke’s admonition. Fuck you, he thought and added a spoonful of jam to the side of the plate.
He sat at the table and ate way too fast, just to get it done and out of the way. He didn’t know where everyone was or what he was supposed to do. He tried to think of a plan while he ate, but nothing came to him. He finished the meal without having come to a decision. He refilled his coffee cup and decided to give it five more minutes.
“Hey, you’re up.” Abby came through the door from the kitchen.
Nick looked at her, trying to get a sense of what she was feeling. She was smiling, but she wasn’t purring. She didn’t look any different. He didn’t know what he was expecting. “You disappeared,” he said softly.
Abby pulled her bottom lip nervously between her teeth. Then she walked over to the window and pulled back the heavy drapes. “Look,” she said.
“Wow!” Nick set down his coffee cup and moved to the window. The world outside was white. It must have snowed all night.
They stood together silently admiring the beauty of nature. Finally, Nick could stand it no more. “Abby…did I…did I do something wrong?”
Abby chanced the tiniest of sidelong glances. “No,” she whispered, “no, you didn’t.” Then, after a pause. “Did I?”
“Oh no, no way, no...” Nick picked up her hand and turned her to him. “It was…wonderful.”
Abby nodded and then ducked her head shyly.
“Where is everyone?” asked Nick, squeezing her hand. “Did I sleep in too late?”
“Daddy’s gone into work for a couple of hours and Mother’s planning next week’s menus with Mrs. Smith.” She nodded over her shoulder to the kitchen.
“Mmm.” Nick’s answer was non-committal.
“Did you think of anything you wanted to do today?” asked Abby.
“Yes,” said Nick, lifting Abby’s fingers to his lips. “I thought we might fit in a trip to the drugstore …and I’d also like to play in the snow. What do you think?”
“I think ‘yes’ to both,” said Abby.
“What’s the driving like?” asked Nick. “Will it be safe to drive?”
“I’m used to driving in this weather,” said Abby. “But if you think it’s too unsafe, we’ll just have them delivered.” She raised her eyebrows twice and grinned widely. “In my mother’s name, of course!”
Nick tipped his head back and laughed. It was going to be okay. And he was going to get to do it again.
“Let’s go play in the snow,” he said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“Where are Nick and Abigail?” asked John Fremont when he got back from his office.
“They went out in the car, said they had a couple of errands to run,” answered his wife. “Are the roads bad?”
“No, they’re okay, the plows have been through.” The citizens of Oak Park never had to wait for snow removal. They were first on the list. “Have they been gone long?”
“No, only a few minutes. They spent most of the morning playing in the snow. Come and see.” Sharon led her husband into the dining room and opened the drapes. The windows faced the back yard. Standing there was a tall snowman, with the traditional carrot nose and…what were the eyes?...John peered closely.
“Brussels sprouts,” explained his wife, laughing.
John put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “And you said I’d never get any use out of that tie,” he said with a chuckle, pointing to a wide out-of-style tie that hung around the snowman’s neck. “There’s no hat,” he added.
“They didn’t get to the hat. They started having a snowball fight instead.” Sharon pointed to the marks on the fence at the back of the yard…missed throws. She leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder. “They had a lot of fun…if shrieking laughter is any indication.”
John was silent for a moment. “What do you think?” he asked at last.
“I don’t know,” answered Sharon honestly. “I hope he doesn’t hurt her.” She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t add that something had happened, that there was now passion between the two young people. She didn’t tell him that last night she had gone past Abigail’s rooms and seen the lights on, a cup of cold cocoa sitting by the computer, the bedroom door open and the bed empty. She didn’t tell him how much she wanted her daughter to be happy, to find her true love. She didn’t tell him how much she had hated him in the beginning for not being Richard and how much she loved him now. But she did slide her arm around his waist and suggest that they should go upstairs so he could change and by the way, the house was empty. She’d given Mrs. Smith the afternoon off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“What’s the score?” Abby poked her head into the living room.
“23-21, Packers,” said Nick and John at the same time, neither of them looking up from the television. “The Bears are trying a field goal,” added Nick, in a tone of voice that said, come in and watch or go away, but either way, stop talking.
“How far?”
“Twenty-three yards,” said John Fremont, succinctly, his eyes glued to the screen.
“No problem,” said Abby. “Edinger hasn’t missed one of those in nearly two years.”
Nick took his eyes off the set long enough to look at Abby. She shrugged and motioned back at the set with her head. They watched the ball sail through the uprights.
“Yah!!” Nick punched his fist into the air, and then rapidly dropped it to his side. Thank goodness Abby’s mother hadn’t been in the room. Nick slid over on the couch and patted the spot beside him. “Did you get much done?”
“Yes,” said Abby with a smile. “I think I’ve turned Lady Vera into a human being.”
“But still a…” Nick lowered his voice, “b-i-t-c-h.”
Abby laughed. “Oh yeah, she’s still nasty. But I made her more fictional. I stopped thinking of her as Ro…”
“Abigail, dear.” Sharon entered the room, carrying a tray of mugs and a plate of cookies. Her husband stood up and took it from her, giving her a tender smile. “I thought you and Nick might like a snack. It’s hot apple cider. And Mrs. Smith’s shortbread.”
“Don’t touch the shortbread, Nick!” said Abby. Nick drew his hand quickly back. “I’m telling you. If you eat one piece, you will be addicted. It’s the best shortbread in the world. One piece. That’s all it will take. You will munch your way through the rest and leave here looking like Frosty!” She motioned with her head in the direction of the back yard.
Nick pouted. “You eat it, don’t you? And you’re still…slender.” He was proud of his last-minute substitution for the word ‘skinny’.
“Can you say ‘met – a – bo – lism’?” Abby enunciated each syllable carefully.
“Probably not without practice,” said Nick, with a grin that made both mother and daughter stop breathing for an instant.
“You nut,” said Abby, offering the tray of cookies. “Go ahead, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Nick picked up a cookie in the shape of a Christmas tree. He took a bite. He looked over at Abby. “Omigod,” he said. “You don’t even have to chew it. It melts in your mouth.”
“I’m on strict rations, as far as Mrs. Smith’s shortbread is concerned,” said John sadly, picking up a cookie. Then he winked at Nick. “But I can tell you where they hide it, if you want me to.”
The four people laughed and there was a moment of total harmony, total comfort.
“Now, Abigail, as for dinner…John and I aren’t going to eat. We’re going out, as you know. There’ll be hors d’oeuvres the entire evening. You know what Jeannette is like. You’re still welcome to come, you know… Miles and Jeannette would be happy to have you…” She looked at the two young people and changed her mind. “No, never mind, you don’t want to take Nick into that herd. Anyway, Mrs. Smith has left a casserole if you want to heat it up, or there’s leftovers you can reheat or…”
“We’ll be fine, Mother,” said Abby. “You and Daddy run along.”
“Finish watching the game, Dear,” said Sharon to her husband, “and then get changed.”
“Go, Bears!” said Abby, standing up. “Call me when the game’s over,” she said.
