While You Were Sleeping

*******

Before we left for the hospital, I had a sit-down chat with Jennifer. The door was going to be an issue now, more so when Marcy came back from hospital. I pointed out that we needed to get her mother better before we told her about the door. She stared at me for a moment and then nodded in agreement. Between us, we simply decided that if we didn't bring up the subject of the door, then neither of us were going to be lying to her.

The conversation did also leave a bad taste in my mouth. Was I becoming a bad influence on Jennifer?

The relief on both their faces as Jennifer entered her room was plain to see. She burst into tears and ran to her mom. Marcy did what she could to comfort her, but she herself was still plugged into all sorts of machines, not to mention tubes in her with bags of liquid hanging above her. I lifted Jennifer onto her bed and sat as far away as possible so they could re-bond again.

I got a mouthed thank you from Marcy before her attention was back on her daughter, I watched in silent amusement, as neither came up for air in the next ten minutes.

*******

The hospital allowed us to stay the allotted time for visitors and only that amount of time, Marcy was still weak from surgery and would be for a day or so. It took some explaining on both our parts when we had to remind Jennifer that they had visiting times in hospitals for a reason. She kissed her mom, stood back and folded her arms. For some reason, she sure tried looking older than she was.

"Your turn, too. Kiss my momma goodbye."

Both Marcy and I looked at each other, totally blindsided by what she had just said.

I again looked towards Marcy for help.

"Jennifer, sweetie, we don't know each other well enough to kiss like you and I do."

The little firecracker still hadn't moved from her position in the room. "Mom, we have lived next door to Martin for months now. You're wrong about him; he's not trying to steal our house. Grandma wouldn't..."

Jennifer froze, took a quick look at me and realized that she might have gone too far. Fortunately, I was looking at Jennifer when she made her statement, so Marcy couldn't see me in shock at what Jennifer was going to say next. Acting purely on instinct and the need to distract Marcy, I lifted her hand and kissed the back of it. Her head came round so fast to look at me that she lost her train of thought with her daughter.

As if feeling that was her cue, Jennifer turned and left the room, I waved goodbye to Marcy, and like Elvis, I exited the building. Her little hand was once again in mine by the time we had made the turn in the corridor.

She must have heard the air leaving my lungs in relief when I said, "That was close."

An embarrassed, "sorry." Came from the munchkin."

"Your mom doesn't like me, Jennifer. I've learned to live with it; I suggest you need to, as well."

"She thinks you're cute, but bossy."

This time it was me who came to a sudden stop, Jennifer simply slipped her hand out of mine and continued to walk towards the exit doors. That was one conversation I was frightened of having with Marcy, more so with her eight-year-old. The smirk never left her lips the whole journey back to the house.

We, or rather I, settled on an uneasy truce. We got my spare bedroom ready for Marcy's return from hospital; Jennifer did the running between the houses via the door when it came to personal items to make her mother's stay easier.

In between all this, we visited Marcy at the hospital several more times; we even took in photos of the room. They showed two single beds almost side by side, along with a small cabinet for her to use as well as hold her medication. No mention was made of Jennifer's slip-up, so we both figured we dodged the bullet on that one.

Marcy even mentioned that she was looking forward to leaving hospital; she knew from the sit down talk she had with the doctor the condition she was in when the ambulance got her there. The doctor told her it was down to a matter of minutes, not hours, left before she would have died. He emphasized that to remind her that although she would get better, she shouldn't go looking for a quick fix.

When the doctor said to rest and convalesce when she got home, he meant it. I was told that Marcy retaliated by showing him the picture of the bedroom she would be in, along with her daughter, while her neighbor looked after them both. Happy with her reply, he signed off on her release.

I now had two women in my home, and for the next day or so it was awkward getting our bearings but it was a welcome distraction for all of us. I actually got used to living with people again. My cooking skills still needed some work, but other than that we were comfortable around each other, much to the annoying smirk from the munchkin sitting in the corner watching our interactions.

The odd awkward moment came along, hygiene being one of them. Marcy said she needed a bath, and for practical reasons, we settled on a shower. Then came the logistics. I suggested a stool in the shower so she wouldn't have to stand. Both thought it a great idea. Marcy suggested we save the first event until Jennifer was at school. Thank God for that suggestion.

The bathroom event turned into embarrassment central. I got the shower ready, and I was even given a list of things that needed to be at hand. When I went to help Marcy, she was sitting on the edge of her bed wrapped in a towel. My jaw dropped, my brain chose neutral as a gear and as I walked to Jennifer's bed, my leg caught and I toppled over the edge and ended up lying face down on it. Marcy watched the whole event in technicolor, I assume, because her eyes went wide and she burst out laughing.

She raised her left arm and pointed at me sprawled on the bed, her other hand went to her mouth to try and hide the giggles, only to cause her towel to lose all hope of staying up, slide over her breasts and form a bundle in her lap. Trying to stay a gentleman and keep my eyes on hers, I failed miserably. Her breasts, to coin a phrase, really could stop traffic, and they sure had a try at stopping my heart.

They were more than a handful, but sure worth the attempt to place said hands around them. Her areola's were large, and as I watched, her nipples joined in with pointing towards me. More and more, the pervert in me wanted to get a tape measure and spend a day or two measuring them. Marcy's arm came across her chest and my mind bitch-slapped me for being such a pervert.

"I'm sorry, I'm staring."

Her cheeks, still red from her giggle fit, only seemed to enhance her smile as she looked into my eyes. My heart skipped a beat, I hadn't felt like this since Judy was alive.

"It's okay, accidents happen, rather allot to you it seems, judging by the past few days."

I nodded, since I couldn't disagree with her. "I'm told because I have big feet, they get in the way a lot."

That's when I realized that I had opened a door that should have stayed locked. Marcy's smile just grew a little more.

"You know what they say about men with big feet?"

"That the cost of large socks and shoes is going to drive us big-footed people into the poor house?" A little humor was the only reply I could think of that wasn't X-rated.

She laughed again, I liked her laugh; it was infectious. Marcy stood for the first time since she had been released from the hospital. She was a little wobbly on her feet, but her sense of balance took over to correct her. I suspect she was acting on instinct when she pulled her towel back up and outwards to straighten it before once again bringing it around herself to tie it off. Being a male of the species, I looked. She clearly worked out. Her whole body was toned; her hips sat well on her body to give her that hour glass figure. She was shaved, and her lips protruded, making me think some very dirty thoughts towards the lady in front of me.

My mind then screamed, "Who is also a guest in my house."

Marcy made a move towards the door and stumbled a little due to the lack of exercise, I moved forward and held her elbow, she looked up at me and smiled before leaning into me as we slow-walked to the bathroom. I sat her on the stool and closed the frosted door, she then threw the towel over the door and I placed that on the cabinet by the shower and told her to holler when she was done. I wanted her to feel comfortable, and I knew she couldn't do that with me in the room.

Between us, it was agreed that the door to the bathroom should remain open. I made us drinks and sat on a stool, leaning my elbows on the kitchen island looking out at my garden, while I heard Marcy singing a lullaby to herself as she took her shower. She had a beautiful singing voice, I knew I couldn't mention it to her; she had little enough privacy as it was.

It was a strange situation, but all three of us made it work. I left the girls alone when they needed hug times, just as they left me alone when I was in a writing zone. To me, the days didn't seem long enough. The weekends were fun, more so when Marcy felt strong enough to at least sit with us in the day room. I had missed this interaction with people, and I could see that Marcy felt the same.

By the tenth day it became apparent even to a guy like me that Marcy was building up the courage to tell me she was going back next door, to her own home. I sucked it up and like an adult began making plans alongside her for the move day. Jennifer freaked; it was the only time I had ever seen these two go head to head over anything.

Come the weekend, Jennifer and I moved the clothes and what was remaining of her medication back to her side of the duplex. Marcy thanked me for my help and Jennifer lunged at me from where she was standing and hugged me, thanking me for saving her momma. I blushed and left them at the front door.

It took a couple of days to dismantle the room they slept in. The charity people came by and picked up the beds, plus the now washed spare blankets, pillows and covers. Later that same afternoon I had the back doors wide open, and sitting on my porch, the everyday sounds of the girls next door drifted over the fence and a great sadness held my heart. I now knew what a family felt like; the father and protector within me screamed for more; instead, I gave it the loneliness of a house full of hopes, dreams and silence.

*******

Something was off. That feeling of being watched came to me again, and when I gazed at the window in front of me, her reflection only confirmed it, I turned from my kitchen counter; the grip on my glass of orange juice almost failing me. Marcy was standing in the archway, a murderous look in her eyes, watching me, and since I hadn't opened the front door for her, it was clear to me that she had found the door.

"Let me guess, you followed Jennifer this morning?"

Her head started to nod before she stopped it. "How could you involve my daughter in this, as well?"

If anyone was going to fall on a sword over this, it was going to be me; I wasn't taking that sweet little girl down with me.

Placing my glass of orange juice back on the counter, I asked her to follow me, I didn't look behind to see if she did, and when I stood in my office for a minute, she appeared and stood by the door, Marcy wasn't coming in. I picked up a book and turned to hand it to her; all Marcy did was stare at it, her own hands firmly by her sides.

"I want you to do something for me."

Her gaze was still on the book, and it took her a moment to look at me,

"Please hold onto your opinion of all this until you read the book. It's important and will explain a great deal. To some extent, it holds the answers to questions you have, and also ones that didn't occur to you."

Her hand eventually took the book, and in the same movement, she gripped it tighter and swung it in an arc, it caught the side of my face and I took a pace back, the book still in hand.

"You keep away from me and my baby. If you don't, I will do my level best to get you arrested for stalking." Her eyes narrowed and the rest came out of her mouth with so much venom. "As soon as I can afford it, I'm getting the closet torn down and the door sealed permanently. From now on, if I see you in the street, you had better walk the other way."

With that, Marcy walked out, then up the corridor and into the room, I heard the 'no longer secret' door slam shut and I would bet my mortgage on it being locked, as well. Rubbing the side of my face, I felt the warmth of her outburst. My hand touched my cheek and felt its warmth as I walked to the window and looked out at my garden.

As my thoughts played over these last few moments, my opinion hadn't changed; perhaps this was for the last time. I couldn't be angry with Marcy; a part of me truly felt for her. The slap with the book was the struggle going on in her head. The book would answer so many questions, and my hopes were that she would read it and not burn it. From the time I found the books in the attic, so much of my life, as well as opinions, had changed.

Now that Marcy had found the door and not let anyone explain why, she was at a crossroads. She needed to read Andrew Townsend's book.

Being ever the pragmatist, I did the washing up, phoned Al and told him I would be away for a few months working on another book and to keep the weeds in the garden at bay as best he could, I placed three months' payment into an envelope and pinned it to the back porch door as agreed. I packed a bag and left to be with my brother and Tessa for a few days.

*******

My brother told me about the phone call he got sometime later, but I had already left for foreign parts. .

"Mister Thompson, there is a call for you. the lady says it's important, but won't give a name. She says you wouldn't know it anyway."

Feeling like it was more a challenge than anything else, he asked his secretary to put the call through. The phone pinged once and he picked it up.

"This is Callum Thompson; can I help you?"

"Do you know what habeas corpus is?" The woman's voice was clear, with just a hint of south of the country in it

"As a lawyer, I would hope so."

"Then you tell that brother of yours that he better get his skinny ass back home before I slap one on you."

He gave out an unexpected roar of laughter, as unexpected as this telephone call.

"I can assume then, that I'm speaking to Marcy Cartwright?"

"You are, indeed."

"Then I have some bad news for you, you will need to postpone the Habeas Corpus because he's doing research for his next book. He's not even in this country. He's in the South of France."

He understood the pause, it wasn't like he had just told her his brother was at the mall or just popped out to pick up his dry cleaning.

"What the hell is over there?"

"He's at a nudist beach."

This pause he was expecting, and he smiled to himself.

"Mmmhhmmm... I suppose you've got pictures to prove he's over there?"

"That's strange, my wife asked for pictures as proof of location as well. Of course, I threatened instant divorce if she so much as gets close to a tape measure and goes the comparison route."

This time they both laughed.

The pause on the line was there, he felt it, almost expected it.

"You're not lying, he's really in France?"

"On a nudist beach? Yes, he is and I don't lie, not when it comes to my brother."

Callum heard the sigh.

He almost felt the sadness in her voice when she said, "He told you then?"

Callum held the phone just a little tighter. "Some of it. My wife sat him down and got the rest out of him. I understand you have history of your own, but my brother has done nothing but look after your daughter, and tried to look after you before it all blew up in his face. He's not selling the house, he refuses to, but odds are he won't live there again."

He heard the intake of breath. What he heard next made him pause in his opinion of Marcy Cartwright.

"It took me awhile, but I read the book he gave me. The love affair between my grandma and the Sheriff... It was only when I finished it that I truly understood the reason for the door. I need to fix the mess I've made and I'm hoping I can pull you into this, to help me."

*******

I had been in France for the last two months, and even had a general outline for the story by then. Although still jotting down the odd idea, the meat of the story was already set. Now was leisure time. It was amusing, I was going for the all-over tan, and the only person who was to see it was going to be me, when I walked past the mirror in the bathroom on the way to the shower.

During my time there, I've become an addict. Croissants are just to die for, and the bakery on-site opened early for us keen folks who wanted them for breakfast. Being a pig, I grabbed two still warm chocolate croissants in the bag. They kept my hand warm on the walk back to my apartment. I came to a stop when I found Marcy sitting on the step to my door in a pink bikini and clearly rosy cheeks.

"Please, can we go inside? I've never seen this much naked flesh walk past while I've waited for you. Your neighbor told me you wouldn't be long and that you were at the bakery. You will never know the struggle I had looking at his face, and only his face."

Her voice said one thing, her eyes never left waist height on me.

I was pleased to see her, even in such strange circumstances. To be there meant she had done as I had asked and read Andrew's diary. That didn't mean these next few minutes were going to be easy on either one of us.

"You practically called me a fucking pervert and threatened to call the sheriff if I didn't get out of your life."

Marcy's head nodded, and her gaze lowered to the floor in front of me. The turmoil going on in her head was plain to see, more so when she bit her bottom lip, resigning herself to knowing she had no defense against what I had just said to her.

"I know you wanted to explain. I regret never letting you. Jennifer cried her heart out when she came home from school. She told me her part in all this and even dragged me to the door to prove her point: it really does only open on one side."

This time a flush came to her cheeks her eyes crept up my body and stopped at my eyes. "Jennifer was right all along. It's going to kill me to apologize to an eight-year-old brainiac and get her 'I told you so' in return."

As her thoughts of what she had said returned to her, her eyes once again met mine.

"I've read the book you gave me, twice. I've never read so much love between two people, not even in a trashy novel. Andrew Townsend loved her with everything he had, I cried when he described carrying my grandmother back to her room one final time. Just to keep their secret and her reputation intact."

Marcy stepped into the apartment when I opened the door, she carried a hold-all with her. She was still talking about the book as I made us both a coffee, I even let her have one of my croissants.

A thought occurred to me. "Who's looking after Jennifer?"

Marcy smiled. "I did wonder how long it would take you to ask. After speaking to your brother, I had about ten minutes before my phone rang again and I was now speaking to your sister-in-law. The interrogation lasted an hour, she loves you and is very protective of you. Between us we turned on your brother and it took us this long to win him over."

It was then that Marcy told me in painful detail the lengths she had to go to, just to get her hands on a passport. I got an annoyed look from her then, only this time I agreed with her, since getting my first one, felt like I was jumping through hoops.

She sighed and looked around the room, then said. "I didn't know what hit me two days ago, one moment I'm sipping coffee looking out over the lawn, then I hear banging on my front door and Tessa was standing on my doorstep with a plane ticket for me and a case of clothes for herself while she and my Jennifer got acquainted."