Package Deal(63)
“I’m way behind, but they’ll have to wait. And, I completely forgot about the writers’ workshop. But that’s not til the third week in August, so I’ll do it if you still want me to.”
He turned her around and kissed the tip of her nose. “The answer is ‘of course.’But how are you going to manage with Cecelia? We’ll be at a retreat in the mountains. I’m not sure you want Cecelia surrounded by adults … people she doesn’t know, and no one to play with her own age.”
“My mother wants to come for a visit to convince herself that we haven’t been eaten by sharks or bears, or attacked by wild Indians. She seems to think we live out of sight of civilization as she knows it. I think we could make it work.”
“Great! We could have some time for ourselves there, too—that is, if you want to indulge in a weekend of fine-tuning the sessions in advance of the workshop itself.”
She smiled and yawned. “The idea has some appeal. I think I’d like that.”
Marcus picked up her hand and led her into the living room. “Come sit down and relax. You’ve been running yourself ragged for the last few weeks. Let me hold you.”
He turned out the lights, leaving only the table candles to compete with the late evening streaks of red in the sky. She sat on the ottoman. He took a seat on the couch and resumed massaging her neck and shoulders. Soon his hands were gliding down her back, and then they slid under her blouse and began to move around to her front.
“I thought you were going to rub my back.”
“I did, and I am. I’m now rubbing the front of your back. Um. The front of your back is very responsive,” he crooned, as he cupped her breasts and eased her against his chest.
She turned and reached for him, and he pulled her into his arms.
He kissed her. “That’s more like it. It’s been so long since we’ve had a chance to do this. You need someone to take care of you, too. I may have to change the order of my two best girls—you and then Cecelia. Do you think she’ll mind?”
“Let’s not ask her until she can walk on her own,” she replied.
He rose and lowered the shades in the living room. Amanda took sheets and a blanket from the storage closet and placed them on the floor.
“I know I said I prefer a bed, but I don’t dare go upstairs. I’d love it if you would just hold me.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he whispered. He gazed into her eyes and drew her tight against his chest. While they held each other, he pulled the sheet over them, and whispered in her ear, “Loving is healing for everyone, Amanda, adults as well as children. I’m here for you both. I want you to know that.” He kissed away her grateful tears.
Several days later, Marcus visited the police station with the information Amanda had shared with him. But after he arrived, his frustration level skyrocketed.
“What do you mean you can’t do anything? This guy is dangerous!”
Detective Park’s demeanor remained calm when Marcus’ voice rose. “So you say. But we have no evidence of that.”
“Look, I showed you—right there—in my notes, what the girl told me in the hospital. Just because you couldn’t get her to talk doesn’t mean something didn’t happen. She knew not to run in the street. She was trying to get away from him! And what she said to the therapist. Can’t you at least go talk to him?”
“He wasn’t at his apartment and he wasn’t on campus when we paid him a visit there. We can’t find him. He seems to have left town. At least, no one has seen him.” The detective’s voice was quiet. “The child’s mother has to make an official complaint. Then, if the DA wants to take action, we’ll pick him up—assuming we can find him. If the DA decides to proceed to trial, he may require the kid to testify.”
“Amanda won’t allow her to do that. Cece’s too fragile emotionally, after what happened.”
The police officer rose. “Look, I can appreciate how you must feel. But without more evidence than your say-so, we can’t do anything. I’m sorry.”
Marcus gave up and headed for the campus and Greg Hillier’s office.
“Good morning, Beatrice. How’s my favorite administrative assistant, but please don’t mention that to Mary Ellen in my department.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and smirked.
She laughed. “It will be our little secret, Marcus. I gather you want to see Professor Hillier?”
“If he’s in.”
“He is. Just a minute.” She waved Marcus into Greg Hillier’s office.
The chairman of the English department was bent over his filing cabinet trying to readjust a stuck drawer.