Chapter Sixteen
Taylor
I’d been thinking about Elijah all night, and by morning, felt as though I hadn’t had any sleep. I knew I couldn’t ask something so heavy of him right after receiving the news he’d been given, but I also knew I couldn’t let this nagging feeling in my gut go.
It was Wednesday, and Milton was going to be my first patient, meaning I’d be struggling with all my unanswered questions about Tommy all day. I had to talk to Elijah. More than that, I knew I wanted to see him again, to make sure he was okay. My heart ached for him. I knew what a struggle he must be having with the decision Kellie dropped in his lap. It was one that he’d never get the chance to correct if he made the wrong one.
I stopped into Madison’s shop on my way into work for a large coffee and a small donut. She was in an unusually good mood, smiling from ear to ear as she handed me my order. “What’s got into you this morning?” I asked, wishing I felt half as good as she did.
“Johnny found a girlfriend,” she beamed.
I laughed with relief, knowing that now her issues with Joey would go away, at least for now. “That’s great,” I smiled, trying to hide my own anxiety.
“So, did you talk to Elijah?” she questioned.
“I stopped by there,” I stammered.
“You didn’t talk to him about Tommy?” she probed.
I shook my head, tightening my lips into a grimace. “He’d just gotten some shocking news. It just wasn’t the right time,” I shared.
“What news?” Madison’s eyes widened as she readied for gossip. She loved anything juicy, and this news would certainly send her tongue into high gear spreading it across the small island.
“It’s nothing I can share, at least not right now,” I explained.
This was Elijah’s news to share, if he decided to do so, not mine. “I’ll call him tonight, maybe find a way to ask him about Tommy then,” I assured my friend.
She pretended to be satisfied with my response, but I knew she’d ask me daily to spill the beans on Elijah until she knew the truth. “I gotta run,” I made my escape as a couple customers entered the bakery.
Mitchell stopped me as I entered the building before I could make it to my office. I was eager to get settled before Milton arrived. “Taylor, if I could have a minute,” he motioned me towards his office. I felt like a kid being summoned into the principal’s office as his eyebrows pushed down in a disappointing scowl.
I entered his office, leaving the door open, hoping it would be a quick chat. “Close the door,” he insisted. Shit, what did I do wrong?
“Is everything okay?” I asked nervously.
“It is. I was just wondering why you changed Milton’s appointments to three times a week,” he questioned.
I explained my reasoning for adding the Friday and waited for his response as he ran his tongue over his sucked in bottom lip. “We’ll try it for a few weeks,” he finally said. “I just don’t want to create an issue with being able to attend to other patients’ needs,” he reasoned.
I agreed and quickly left his office. I knew in my heart or hearts that keeping Milton in contact with the outside world more frequently would help ease his depression, but now I had to prove it to Mitchell in less than a month in order to continue my method of treatment.
When Milton arrived for his appointment, he was chipper as usual, according to his Wednesday notes. We talked about his wife, how badly he missed her, and then the possibility of him visiting his kids. “I think it would do you some good to see your kids, and your grandkids,” I beamed.
I watched his eyes light up as he told me about the littlest one, Jack, named after his dad. He was only two, but he knew how to Skype, something his son had only taught him a couple years ago. “You may be right. I would like to see them,” he agreed.
I walked him out and told him I’d see him Friday. He waved as he waddled out of the building, his old wooden cane keeping his balance as he made his way to a small white car. I chuckled as I watched him climb in. He was old, nearly falling apart, and could barely see, but he was still driving. Watch out, Molokai; there’s a wild man on the loose.
The fact that Milton had been in a good mood meant there wasn’t talk of the war, of his buddies dying in front of him, or the fact he hated he’d been spared when his brother’s hadn’t. It made my day go by faster and kept the weight off my chest that crushed me whenever I thought of Tommy.
My last appointment ran over, so by the time I was ready to leave, Mitchell had already left for the day. I was relieved, not wanting to have another discussion about Milton, or my treatment plans. I knew he was concerned about my motives, knowing that my father committed suicide at about the same age as the old man. There were a lot of similarities, and if I noticed them, I knew Mitchell did as well.
I locked up my office and called Elijah as I walked to my car. “Hey there,” his voice sounded lighter than the last time we’d talked.
“Hey, you. How ya doin?” I asked as casually as I could muster.
“Oh, you know, livin’ the dream,” he chuckled.
Most people would consider his life a dream, but not Elijah. He didn’t find this island to be paradise, he obviously didn’t plan on having a family, and he had all those bad memories that he just couldn’t let go of, no matter how hard I knew he tried.
“How would you like a home cooked meal?” I asked.
“That depends,” he teased.
“On?”
“On whether or not you can cook,” he chuckled.
“Oh, I can cook,” I boasted.
“Then I’d love one,” he beamed.
“See ya around seven?” I suggested.
“Yes, you will,” he flirted.
I was blushing as I hung up the phone. Why was it so hard to even talk to that man without it arousing me?
I stopped at the little market in town and grabbed a basket. I knew I had to make something amazing after boasting about my culinary skills, even though it was mostly just talk. I’d spent a lot of time in the kitchen when I lived at home, but not much since I’d moved to the States. My tiny New York apartment had such a small kitchen, there was no way to prepare more than a microwave meal in there, so I was a little rusty.
I selected a couple Mahi Mahi fillets and moved on to the produce section. My dad had taught me my way around grilling a fish, and my pineapple salsa was always a hit. I gathered the ingredients, along with a couple bottles of sweet red wine, and headed to the checkout counter.
“Mommy, I want candy,” a little girl’s voice pulled my attention to the register beside me. Kellie Kamaka looked the same as she did in high school, not a day older. Her eyes narrowed on the small child beckoning her as mommy, “You’ve had enough candy,” she scolded.
I stared down at the little girl, her dark eyes and round cheeks matching her mothers. That was Bailey, Elijah’s daughter. I looked up, noticing Kellie staring in my direction. I smiled at her, trying to act casual, even though my heart raced. She smiled back, not a friendly one, but more of a smirk. She pulled on her daughter’s arm gently, keeping her close to her side, and then turned her attention to the clerk who was ringing up her groceries.
I fumbled in my wallet for my card, purposely giving Kellie enough time to grab her bags and exit the store. We weren’t friends in school, and certainly not after. She was a year older than me, the prom queen, one of the popular girls, or as I called them, mean girls.
I sat in my car, struggling with the pain in my chest as the little girl’s image played over and over in my mind. I’d looked for anything that would make me believe she wasn’t Elijah’s child, but there was something very familiar in her eyes, and in her crooked little smile. My God, Elijah really has a daughter: Kellie Kamaka’s daughter.
I stowed the groceries in the fridge and headed to the shower. As I stripped down, my reflection in the tall mirror pulled my attention. My hands slid down my sides, measuring my curves and comparing them to Kellie’s. She was a beautiful woman, and I was certain Elijah had been with many other women just as beautiful, probably even more so. What was it he saw in me?
My breasts were full and firm, larger than they’d been in high school, but I still had the same narrow hips. Luckily my waist was still tiny, giving me the slight illusion of a curve, but I knew after a few more weeks of Madison’s donuts, that curve was in danger of disappearing.
I had just brought the fish in from the grill when Elijah knocked on the front door. My hair was flowing freely down my back, and a cute frilly apron covered my low-cut yellow sundress as I answered the door. I watched his eyes carefully as they washed over my body, warming me with his obvious approval. “You know I go nuts when you wear red,” he growled playfully as he gripped my waist, pulling me into him.
I let out a squeal of surprise at his aggression, but didn’t pull back. I’d remembered him saying how much he liked red, and I’d hoped he’d react just like he did. “I can change if it’s going to be a distraction,” I giggled.
His mouth pushed onto my neck. I squealed again as his lips sucked in my delicate flesh. “You can take it off if ya want,” he whispered in my ear and then offered a sweet kiss to my cheek.
My pussy swelled with arousal, pushing against the silk of my panties as he gave me a tight squeeze before letting me go. “What’s for dinner?” he asked. “It smells amazing.”
“Mahi Mahi with dirty rice and pineapple salsa,” I boasted.
His eyes widened, obviously surprised that I delivered on my promise of a good homecooked meal. “Would you like a glass of wine?” I asked, moving into the kitchen.
The friction between my legs was stirring up more juices, and my body began to tingle with excitement. Elijah nodded unenthusiastically. “You don’t drink wine, do you?” I questioned, realizing he’d drank a whiskey at dinner the night we went out.
He smirked, shaking his head. “For you, I’d drink dirty bath water.”
“I think my dad had a hidden stash of whiskey in the pantry,” I smiled, motioning towards the small door in the kitchen.
Elijah didn’t hesitate to begin his search, and within seconds, he pulled a full bottle of Jack from the small storage room. “That’s more like it,” he announced, holding the bottle in the air like a trophy.
My dad was never a big drinker, but he always kept certain bottles in the house for when guests would stop by. He was a very gracious host, making him a popular guy on the small island. It must be where I’d gotten my good hostess skills, always wanting to please my guest.
I plated our meals while Elijah poured me a glass of wine, and himself a whiskey over ice. “You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I would’ve more than gladly taken you out,” he offered.
“I know,” I smirked, pushing his plate in front of him.
It was like I’d never reacted like a school girl after our night together; like he’d never received the shocking news of fatherhood. Our conversation flowed freely, easily, and it felt good to laugh, to see him laugh.
“I didn’t make any dessert,” I blurted, realizing I’d forgotten to pick up anything sweet.
Elijah’s eyes lay heavy on mine as his lips curled into a smirk. “I know where to find something sweet,” his tongue slid across his bottom lip.