Ingrid Ch. 09

But something about her decision didn't feel right. She wouldn't phone Tony until Monday or even Tuesday. That would make it sound more authentic.

She had no idea as she crossed Marine Drive and strode down toward the seawall that Steve was walking toward her only half a block away. Neither saw the other.

-0-

Later that afternoon, Ingrid put the finishing touches on her revised proposal and printed the pages. She had finally been able to concentrate on the task, and having checked it for errors and omissions at least three times, was satisfied. She scanned it one more time for anything she might have missed, then faxed it to the number Gordon Davenport had given her.

A sigh of relief followed the last of the seven pages as they ran through the fax machine without a problem. She sat looking at her laptop for a few minutes, her mind lost in thought before closing the program and shutting off the PowerBook.

She looked at her watch and saw that it was a quarter of six. Time to do something about dinner. She had been spoiled these last three or four weeks. Steve had looked after feeding her, and she hadn't needed to even think about buying groceries, much less cook.

She picked up the phone, and deciding to take the easy way out, called Pizza Man. She went to the fridge and pulled out the salad that Steve had made for last night. It looked a bit wilted, but maybe with some dressing on it, it would do. She reached in the back and extracted a chilled bottle of white wine and opened it while she waited for the pizza delivery.

It wasn't gourmet cuisine, but at least if filled her and there were a couple of pieces left over she could keep in the fridge for lunch on Sunday. She was on her second glass of wine and was idly looking at the television guide to see what was on this evening. In a word, nothing! It was summer reruns, bad movies, good movies overly interrupted by commercials, and crappy summer replacement series.

She thought about her collection of taped movies when she remembered her special collection, hidden in the bottom drawer of her nightstand. Even Steve didn't know about these. He would probably have freaked if he knew she had a collection of pornography.

She grabbed four or five from the drawer and headed back toward the living room when she stopped and returned to the nightstand. She retrieved her 'toy box' and then moved to the living room couch for an evening of self entertainment.

She refilled her wine glass, pushed one of the tapes into the VCR and flicked on the remote. It was one of the old standby's she had relied on in the pre-Steve days. The plot was simple. Big-boobed-bimbo applies for secretary's job and gets interviewed by well hung stud. She blows him, he eats her, they screw in the usual variety of positions and viola, she's hired! Simple, and in the past, effective in getting Ingrid aroused to the point where the toys would be employed.

But not tonight. Those two couldn't hold a candle to what she and Steve had enjoyed in the last month. There was no passion and the acting was decidedly fake. Fake orgasms, fake cries of passion, even fake erections. There was nothing fake about her sex life in the last while. She ejected the tape and pushed another into the slot. Different movie, same verdict! Predictable and now, somehow boring. Definitely not arousing.

"Shit!" she cried aloud. "I can't even get any satisfaction here!"

She flopped herself down on the couch as the second movie continued. Ingrid closed her eyes and tried to remember their time on the 'Matron' that first long weekend. She smiled as she recalled their reckless lovemaking throughout Saturday afternoon and evening. He had taken her from behind in the wheelhouse in a moment of sexual abandon.

Their romp in the stateroom after dropping anchor in Hotham Sound was a wild and sweaty affair. Afterward, they went skinny dipping briefly in the cold shallows below the waterfall. They had used any excuse to have sex, and had taken to wearing the minimum of clothing more for warmth or comfort than propriety.

Ingrid had called it their "Festival of Debauchery" as the weekend wore on. She recalled the soreness that threatened to put a hold on their activities until she had remembered the lubricant she had in her travel kit. Each time they thought they had reached their limits, they found new energy to carry on.

Their last night, anchored off Thormanby Island, was a slow, sensuous, quiet night. No acrobatics, no screams of joy or passion. Just the languid, sensory touching of lips and finger tips and loving whispers. It was these memories that aroused her now and brought her some satisfaction.

-0-

Ingrid's business phone rang at ten thirty on Monday morning. She was able to pick up just before the third ring.

"Ingrid's Designs, good morning," she answered softly.

"Good Morning Ms. Solberg. My name is Michael Saggert. I think you know who I am, and possibly why I'm calling," he said directly.

"Yes, sir ... Mr. Minister. I know who you are," she replied cautiously.

"May I call you Ingrid?" he asked politely. "You can call me Mike ... I don't stand on formality," he said.

"Yes, that's fine ... Mike."

"Ingrid, I wanted to call to clear up a misunderstanding that is entirely my fault. I understand that you had a conversation with my Deputy, Eric Knorr, about my inquiry on your bid proposal. I think things got a little out of hand after that. Please allow me explain," he requested in a firm voice.

"Go ahead," she replied quietly.

"As you are probably aware, I'm new as Minister of Health. I was in Travel and Tourism prior to this appointment, and it's a junior portfolio. The Ministry of Health has the biggest budget in Government and as a result, has the most experienced and senior civil servants available. Eric Knorr is one of the most respected and professional people I could hope for. Unfortunately, my inexperience in this Ministry caused me to ask him about your bid.

"I should never have done that. Eric has been trained that even the smallest hint to him about an issue is worthy of his close examination. He would never have been in that meeting on Friday, but my question to him was the catalyst. I talked to him this morning and explained my indiscretion, and he told me that you and he had resolved it and that it would go no further. I am pleased that he recognized my error."

The Minister paused for a moment and then continued.

"Steve and I are acquainted because he has been my financial advisor, and is also assisting me to conform to the new Conflict of Interest regulations passed in the previous session. We have become friends, and in the course of that friendship, he has recently told me about meeting you and how important you have become to him.

During the various conversations we've had he mentioned you were bidding on a contract, but he didn't know much about it. In my typical nosey fashion, I decided to find out and much to my surprise, discovered it was with my Ministry. It was then that I asked Eric Knorr what the status of the bid was."

He paused again.

"Ingrid, at no time did Steve ever ask or even hint that my intervention was welcome. It was my idea to find out and I botched it! It will give you no comfort to know that my wife is mad as hell at me when I explained what had happened, and I'm getting the full treatment from her as a result. I talked to Steve last night and again this morning and he's very concerned that you think he had something to do with this. I can only assure you, he did not," he finished.

There was a noticeable pause and then Ingrid responded. "I see. But I'm afraid I may have ... I mean ... some things were said that can't be taken back," she said quietly.

"Ingrid, I talked to Steve last night and I can assure you, there's nothing that can't be fixed," he said confidently. "I may not be the smartest guy in politics, but I can tell how he feels about you and he's devastated that he might lose you. Trust me, of this I am sure."

"Thanks Mike," Ingrid said, brightening somewhat. "I hope you're right."

"I know I'm right." he stated emphatically. "Ingrid, when this is all over and things have settled down, Marge and I would like to have you and Steve over for a social evening. We owe you that at least for all the hurt I've caused," he said sincerely. "I can only apologize for my stupidity and hope that everything works out well for you and Steve. Thank you for hearing me out," he concluded.

"Thank you for calling. I appreciate your honesty. I'll call Steve this morning and see if I can patch things up," she said haltingly.

"Good luck." he said.

"Thanks, good bye." She hung up.

Ingrid looked at her hands. They were shaking, and she thought she might throw up as a wave of nausea passed through her. She reached for the phone again and then stopped.

"What will I say to him?" she thought. "I was so mean and hateful to him. How will I make it right?"

She stared at the phone and closed her eyes for a few moments. Then she reached for it again, and entered his number. After the fourth ring, the answering machine kicked in and she waited until the beep.

"Hi, it's me. Call me," she said in a quiet, plaintive voice, then hung up.

She went into the kitchen and poured the last of her tea. It was too strong and she diluted it and then warmed it in the microwave. She took a large oatmeal and raisin cookie out of the half-dozen she had purchased yesterday. She wandered back to the living room, sat on the couch, and waited for the phone to ring.

Where was he, she wondered? Probably out with a client. Maybe out for a morning run. Maybe he went shopping. Surely he'll call before noon. No wait, it's only a few minutes before noon now.

She had taken a bite from the cookie, but realized she had no appetite and probably wouldn't keep it down anyway. Her stomach was in a knot, and she was getting a beauty of a headache. She shuffled to the bathroom, opened the cabinet, pulled out the Tylenol, and took two capsules. Back to the couch to await her fate. She put her head back, closed her eyes and tried to relax.

Ingrid had fallen asleep on the couch, and it took her a moment after hearing the door chime to realize where she was. She pushed herself off the couch and padded to the door to open it. The bright midday sun was streaming through the doorway and it took her a second or two to recognize who it was.

"Steve!" she cried. She stood still trying to absorb the fact that he was there.

"May I come in," he asked seriously.

"Yes ... yes ... of course," she said, slightly dazed.

There was an awkward moment as Ingrid closed the door behind him and Steve turned to face her in the foyer.

"You called," he said simply.

"Yes ... yes, I did," she acknowledged. Another awkward pause ensued.

"Mike ... I mean, the Minister called me this morning. He said it was entirely his fault. He said you didn't interfere. He said he didn't want to see this come between us. He said he wanted us to come to his place for a social when ... when ...," her rapid-fire hyper-voice trailed off.

Steve made the two steps to close the gap between them and wrapped his arms around Ingrid and held her to him. She began to shake and he realized this was the release she needed. Her tears flowed and her sobs shook her whole body until they became hiccups. Steve didn't say a word, just held her and let her emotions run their course.

When the hiccups subsided and tears had slowed, she slowly raised her head to look at him.

"How can you ever forgive me?"

"It's easy," he said quietly, "I love you."

"Oh Steve, after all the horrible things I said to you. I can't forgive myself. I wouldn't listen to you. I just let my stupid temper and my stupid ego get the best of me," she confessed.

"Do you think it could happen again?" he smiled questioningly.

"No ... maybe ... I don't know."

"Then I guess I just have to learn to live with it," he grinned.

"Oh Steve, I feel so terrible. I haven't had a peaceful moment since you left that afternoon," she cried softly.

"Neither have I. I'm just glad Mike came home last night and not after a two or three week vacation. I think I would have gone crazy by then."

Ingrid looked up and him and kissed him tentatively on the lips. Steve looked at her for a moment then kissed her more firmly and finally they merged and it was the kiss of renewed love that they had both hungered for these last few days. They stood in the foyer for several minutes in a long-lasting embrace and kissed, professing their love to each other. Finally, Ingrid took Steve's hand and led him to the couch and they both sat down, but both on the edge of the cushions.

"Tell me, Steve... has this hurt us permanently?"

"No Ingrid. These are temporary wounds. We should try and learn from them," he answered seriously.

"I think real love is about trust," he continued. "You must know now that I would never hurt you. I would never do anything that would damage or destroy us. We still have a lot to learn about each other, and this past weekend was part of that learning."

She was near tears again. "God, you're so forgiving," she said, taking his hands in hers. "The things I said to you. I didn't trust you. I was so wrong and I hurt you."

"You are forgiven, my love," was his simple reply.

"Take me to our bed, Steve. I want us to make love. I want you inside me again. I'm so lost without you. I'm so empty," she sobbed as the tears began to flow again.

Steve rose and helped her up and led her down the hallway to their now familiar bedroom.

Sometime after five that afternoon, Steve quietly padded out to the living room, picked up the phone and entered Mike Saggert's home number. His wife Marge picked up the phone.

"Marge, its Steve Inhalt calling," he said quietly.

"Hi Steve. How are you?" she asked

"I'm fine, Marge. I think things are going to be OK with us now. I just wanted to call and thank Mike for his help. It definitely made the difference."

"He damn well should have after the total screw-up he caused. He hasn't heard the end of this," she said firmly.

"Don't be too hard on him, Marge. He and I just made a couple of rookie mistakes. Luckily there's no lasting damage."

"Well he's just lucky, then," she continued. "I'd have never forgiven him if it had caused you two to break up. Is Ingrid there ... can I talk to her?"

"She's sleeping right now. I don't think either of us got much sleep in the last three days."

"Well, I'm planning a barbeque in a couple of weeks, just a social affair. Both of you are invited and then I'll get a chance to meet her and we can discuss you two in private," she laughed.

"I'm sure Ingrid will look forward to it. Thank you for the invitation, but can we agree not to talk business?"

"I think that goes without saying. I'll call you or Ingrid with the details and we'll see you then," she said brightly.

"Thanks again, Marge. Bye!"

Steve walked to the living room window and looked out in the afternoon sun. In the background, the FM station was playing Katie Melua's "Closest Thing to Crazy." He nodded his head in understanding.

The knot in his stomach had disappeared and he was feeling much better. They had made love at the slowest possible pace, trying to make it last as long as they could. It was an expression of how they felt for each other. As he told her just before she drifted off to sleep, it was about their undying, indestructible love for each other.

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