The Lover's Children

Chapter 98 – Summer’s Inferno – Part 8

MICHAEL

In the house, all seems well. As it turns out, Mitch and Beth were doing double-duty between them to

babysit, taking turns for a catnap whilst Cara and Adam, safely in their pen, play together. Which is to

say, as we arrive, Cara is beating Adam over the head with a foam-rubber hammer. He retaliates with a

squawk, lobbing plastic building bricks at her. Vicky watches from the side-lines by Mitch, goggle-eyed.

“In fact,” comments Beth, “having two of them isn’t really double the work, because they entertain each

other.”

James sucks his cheeks to hollows. “That’s entertainment, is it?”

Apparently dissatisfied with its potential for violence, Cara abandons the foam hammer, instead

grabbing Adam’s bricks to launch back at him.

Then, right on cue, Cara’s face screws up, turning a shade of purple more suited to an eggplant. Her

wartime footing with Adam forgotten, mouth wide, she issues a wail like an air-raid siren.

“Whoops!” Charlotte swoops, scooping up the toddler. “Someone needs changing.” She kisses her on

the forehead then wrinkles her nose, but nonetheless, Charlotte’s smile is back. “How’s Mom’s best

girl? Come on...” Then, bouncing Cara in her arms… “…Let’s get rid of that nasty nappy, shall we.” The This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

pair exit towards the bathroom.

Five minutes later, they’re back, Cara now happily gurgling. But as they enter, Cara sees Adam in the

pen, doing something complicated with a fluffy blue elephant. With a screech, her arms fling out, and

as her feet touch base in the pen, she muscles across for possession of the elephant. Adam latches on

to his prize, chubby arms wrapped around, squalling defiance until Mitch steps in, pushing a knitted

pink and purple rabbit into Cara’s clutches.

James’ voice is dry. “She’s going to be a handful, isn’t she, our daughter…” Charlotte Tuts

exasperation… “…She takes after her mother…”

“Or maybe her father,” I add.

“Maybe.” James slants me a glance, mouth twitching. “I missed most of this first time around.”

“Enjoying it?”

“You have no idea.” The twitch morphs to a grin. He slaps a hand onto my shoulder. “Your turn next.”

Charlotte regards us with cool eyes, then murmurs something to Beth, who listens, then nods. Pulling

the door closed behind her, Charlotte leaves, Beth’s eyes following her.

What was that about?

“Yay!” Adam yells, lobbing a green foam brick, mortar-style, up out of the pen, followed by another in

yellow. Beth snatches both of them, mid-air, with the practiced skill of a pro-fielder. But she won’t meet

my eye.

Hmmm…

“Mitch,” I say, “Have you and Larry gotten any further with your ideas on how you’d like your apartment

extending? And that area at the back.”

Her face lights up. “Oh, yes. We’ve been talking about it.” Then she looks away, flushing. “Actually,

after you cleared the scrub, I’ve been talking about it. Larry just nods, agrees to everything I say and

tells me to let him know when you need some money off him.”

“A free hand, then. If Beth and James here are happy to take over baby-sitting duty, why don’t you walk

me around what you want.”

*****

Half an hour later, to the rear of Mitch’s apartment, a mass of string and pea canes mark the layout for

water supply, drainage, and power cables.

“Here?” I prop my latest cane upright on the ‘lawn’, actually a bramble patch cut, slashed and

macheted down to ground level.

Mitch angles her hand. “A bit to the left. Otherwise, the fountain will be too close to the tree.”

Fountain?

Nice idea though…

My phone bleeps. Incoming message. As I read it, “Um, you’ll have to excuse me for a while, Mitch.

Charlotte wants me.”

Her mouth twitches. “Of course.”

Walking away, I keep the smile off my face, but can’t help the way the heat blooms inside at Charlotte’s

message: a single word.

Now.

I know what that means.

Can it really be that accurate?

I don’t know, but I’m not about to argue. I just tap in a reply.

On my way.

Popping my head around Charlotte’s study door, she’s not there. But her chart is, pinned to the wall,

tracking her body temperature. Sure enough, it shows a rise over the last twenty-four hours or so.

There’s another one too, a scatter chart going back some weeks. I’m less sure what it’s illustrating, but

the left axis is marked: ‘Dry’, ‘Creamy’, ‘Wet’, ‘Egg white’.

There are some mysteries of the female physiology I prefer not to explore too deeply. Still, the dots run

up and down in a cycle, and the last one or two are ringed in red felt tip.

I scratch my scalp, considering that information.

Time to make my own contribution.

Bedroom…

*****

Charlotte’s waiting for me, a sheet drawn up covering up over her breasts. Her wealth of hair lies loose,

a copper-red contrast to the white linen. And she’s made-up her face, but only just: a hint of colour at

cheeks and lips. A bare darkening of lashes and lids. Her eyes, green and glorious, are all my Charlotte

needs.

“Hi, Babe.”

She draws back the sheet, inviting me in and my shaft nudges to life. “I’m sweaty. Let me have a quick

shower first.”

Sucking at her lips, she gives a small nod. Her expression…

Serious…

Almost sombre…

Normally her face would glow with anticipation. The knowledge of what we are about to do.

Worrying?

I’d intended to dash in and out of the shower. Instead, I take an extra minute or two, give myself time to

think.

Facing up into the stream from the jets, water sluices down, taking sweat and grime with it. But I’m not

easy. Normally by now, I’d be at full mast. Instead, my erection rises half-hearted and tentative.

Is this getting out of hand?

Still, confident that I’m once more ‘nice to know’, I rinse off, throw on a robe and wander back into the

bedroom, scrubbing a towel over my hair.

Charlotte follows me with her gaze as I perch a hip beside her. “I checked my temperature this morning

and it’s the right time and…”

“Hey, Babe. Relax. Chill out.” I tilt up her chin with a finger. “It's just us now.”

“But… I promised you a baby…” Her voice quakes… “And it’s important to you. And…”

“Charlotte, we'll have one, but relax. It's me.” It’s not just her voice. Her chin and lip are trembling too.

When did you ever tremble?

Never…

Not through pain or fear or even what must have been the outright terror of when, in the throes of

labour with her first child, Charlotte was imprisoned in barbaric conditions.

Never have I known her to tremble.

“You're taking this too seriously…”

“But it is serious. It’s what…”

I nudge up closer, I kiss her on the end of the nose. “Charlotte, remember what this is about. You and

me and all of what we make between us…”

“But…”

“… I don't just mean pregnancy and babies.” Pinching her chin, I hold her face to mine. “You and me,

we make more together than that. I’m talking about love and joy and… and just the sheer magic of

being together. Charlotte, we're husband and wife. But more than that, we’re lovers and friends. We

have been from the day we first met. This isn’t just about you being a baby-making factory.”

She smiles, but the smile is fragile, her eyes liquid. Releasing her chin, I slide my hand over her neck

and shoulders.

Tension ripples under her skin. Muscles that should be loose and easy, knot under my palm. I run

fingers up into her hair, rubbing into her scalp. “Think back to when we first met, you and me. It was just

about having fun, enjoying ourselves and each other. No stakes. No world-shattering consequences.

Just you. And me. And usually, James too. But it was just fun.”

Her eyes are wide. She's trembling.

Have I done this to you? Made this so important?

Perhaps…

It was never just fun...

I always loved you.

Always…

And I wanted children with you. Told you that.

I’d like to fill this house with kids…

But now…

You’re thinking about it all the time.

It's eating you up.

You look like your mother…

But have you inherited your father's tendency to obsession?

Perhaps…

It's helped you survive, to get to where you are.

But now it’s working against you…

And no matter how much I want to be a father, it’s not worth this price…

“Tell you what, Babe. Let me give you a massage, ease out some of those kinks. Then, when you’ve

loosened up a bit, we’ll make love.”

The smile steadies. “That would be nice.”

“That’s better. More what I want to see.” I nuzzle her cheek. “Why don’t we have some music. Here…” I

pass her my phone… “You choose something while I sort out my oils.”

I always keep a supply of essential oils handy in a bedside drawer, usually for the erotic possibilities.

On this occasion…

Tipping a little almond oil into the small bowl I use for the purpose, I hover over the mixers.

Relaxation…

Chamomile?

No… Don’t want to knock her out…

Geranium?

Always good…

Frankincense…

Helps with depression… Bergamot too.

A few drops of each in my base oil and I tip a little of the resulting ‘recipe’ into my hand, rubbing my

palms together to warm it through. “Lie back. Make yourself comfortable.”

She smiles, stretching out, curving her arms back onto the pillow. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“We’re both lucky, Babe. And this is for both of us.”

Starting with her feet, I smooth fragrant oil over the skin, half-closing my eyes to better read the

messages my fingers send.

Even her toes feel cramped. Taking each in turn between thumb and forefinger, I give a slight turn and

pull until I reach the end of the toe. Then, cradling the heel of her left foot in one hand, I slide an index

finger between each toe in turn, moving back and forth between tip and base.

Circling my thumbs over the top of the foot, I keep half an eye on what I’m doing, the other half on

Charlotte.

The pulse at her neck slows, her lids drooping. “Oh, God, that’s good,” she breathes.

“Only just getting started, Babe.” Her calves are tight too, knotted muscles transmitting through my

palms…

Hmmm…

Have a word with James…

Keep her out for longer rides…

Long, smooth strokes with the flat of my hands, slow but firm along the length of calves and thighs,

draw groans from Charlotte. Skin and muscles heat under my touch.

By the time I’ve rolled her over, worked on her back and shoulders, I have a good picture of what’s

happening. “You been head-achy recently?”

“A bit, yes.”

“Thought so. It’s coming from here…” I knead in with my knuckles… “… between your shoulder blades.

I keep seeing you hunching up. Headaches are the price you’re paying for bad posture. You need to

straighten up.”

Another one for James… Increase her riding hours…

“Now, roll over again…”

Obedient, passive, she turns, lying to face upright, but now my agenda’s changed.

Her breasts, so full as they are, lie flattened against her chest. Nonetheless, as air kisses the nipples,

they crinkle and nub. Laying my palm over a breast, I thumb at the hardening nub, meeting her eyes,

letting her know my changing intentions.

Her face shifts from passive, to smiling, to mischievous. Her lips part, teeth glinting white.

“Feeling better, Babe?”

“Yes, I am. Thank you.”

“For what? A massage? Any time.”

“For the massage, yes. But mainly for being you. For being my husband. And my lover. And my friend.”

“That’s what life’s about, Babe.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been so silly.”

“You haven’t been silly. You’ve been depressed. So, why don’t we see what we can do about it?” I

pluck at a nipple, rolling it between thumb and finger pad.