East of the Sun, West of the Moon Page 3

  Whenever the opportunity arose, Mel tried to monopolize Erik's free time. Leigh discovered he had the gift of making each of her children feel they were the most important person in the world. And it wasn't contrived. He truly seemed interested in all of them.

  But it was Aaron who drew his special attention, much to Leigh's delight. With Bob's work schedule and Mark's social life, her youngest son was starved for male companionship. Somehow, Erik had picked up on that. He made sure he spent plenty of time with the ten-year-old, playing basketball, bicycling or swimming in the pool until the autumn weather set in. On a crisp Saturday near the end of September, Aaron breathlessly ran into the sewing room where Leigh was finishing his pirate costume for Halloween.

  "Mom!"

  Leigh's heart lurched at the urgency in his voice. “What?"

  "You'll never guess what."

  Her hand dropped onto her pounding chest. She wondered how long it would be before she'd regain her normal color. “What, Aaron?"

  "Erik is taking me camping next weekend to Hungry Mother.” The dimples deepened in his cheeks as he danced around the room in delight.

  Erik appeared in the doorway. “I meant to ask you first, Kayleigh. Mark has agreed to go, too. May we have your permission?"

  Leigh looked doubtfully from one face to the other. “This time of the year? Won't it be kind of ... cold?"

  "The forecast is calling for a week or two of ... what is it you call it? Indian summer? But even if they are wrong, I've already spoken with Mark about your camping gear. You have nice thermal sleeping bags and a Coleman heater.” Erik dropped a hand onto Aaron's shining blond head. “Aaron tells me this Hungry Mother State Park is quite nice. And it's only a few hours away."

  "Please, Mom?” Aaron pleaded, eyes yearning. “It'll be so much fun."

  When Leigh still hesitated, Erik added, “We'll drive down on Saturday morning and come back Sunday afternoon. I'll take good care of Aaron. Believe me, I've had much experience camping in cold weather."

  "I guess you have...” Leigh said slowly.

  The tone of her voice told Aaron all he needed to know. “Then, we can go?"

  His blue eyes sparkled and his freckles fairly glowed in excitement. How could she say no? She nodded, and Aaron threw himself into her arms. He gave her a big wet kiss on the cheek right in front of Erik and then scrambled away. Leigh smiled and wiped the saliva from her face. “Wow. How did you get him to do that?"

  Erik looked as if he wanted to plant a big kiss on her too, but instead, he put his lips to the tips of his fingers and blew one in her direction. “Thanks, Kayleigh. You made that little boy very happy."

  "Not me,” Leigh said. “It wasn't me, at all."

  His answer was a smile that warmed her all over.

  * * * *

  "Yes!” Leigh pumped a fist into the air, her eyes glued to the small television set on the kitchen counter. “Way to go, Redskins!” The band struck up “Hail to the Redskins” and Leigh sang along with it gustily while searching the refrigerator for a bottle of Coors to celebrate the victory. Too bad Bob had fallen asleep in the rec room before the 4th quarter.

  The back door slammed, and Aaron ran into the kitchen, grasping a grimy metal bucket. “Look, Mom.” He reached into the bucket and pulled out a dripping fish.

  Leigh tried to hold back a shudder. She was not a fish-type person. “Wonderful, Aaron,” she said, trying to look enthusiastic. “You caught it yourself?"

  "All by himself,” Mark spoke from the doorway of the utility room.

  Erik appeared behind Mark. Leigh's eyes flicked over their mud-stained jeans and filthy skin. She'd never seen too sorrier-looking young men in her life. She sniffed and wrinkled her nose. They didn't smell too pleasant either.

  Aaron dropped the fish back into the water. “Hungry Mother was great, Mom. Erik taught me how to make a fire with sticks, and I showed him how to make S'mores."

  With a wry grin, Erik stepped into the kitchen, his lean jaw covered with blond stubble. Mark followed, also in need of a shave. Leigh shook her head and smiled. “You guys look like you haven't seen civilization in weeks. And you were only gone one night."

  "Speaking of being civilized...” Mark asked with a grin. “What was that you were doing when we walked in?"

  Leigh lifted the Coors bottle. “Celebrating, what do you think? Majewski kicked the winning field goal with only four seconds on the clock."

  Erik grinned. “How did you get so crazy about this game? I always heard it's the American men who like sports while the women complain about being widows during football season."

  "Not in this family,” Mark said. “It's Grandpa Jim's fault. Since there were no boys in the family, he turned Mom and Aunt Barb into football fanatics."

  "Redskin fanatics,” Leigh corrected.

  Erik's hand clamped down on her shoulder. “I like that. A lover of sports. Just like a Norwegian woman."

  Uneasy at his spontaneous touch, Leigh shifted away. “You want a beer, Erik?” At Mark's “Me, too,” she shook her head. “You want me arrested for contributing to the delinquency of a minor?” She grabbed another beer from the refrigerator and two Cokes.

  Aaron placed his bucket on the kitchen table and sifted through its contents, his brow puckered. “Here's a rainbow trout, and a couple of little catfish. Oh, this is a sunfish, but I don't think they taste good...” He pursed his lips and a little dimple flickered in his cheek.

  Leigh rested her hands on his shoulders and gazed into the smelly bucket. “Wow. You caught all those, Aaron?” She wondered if there was a spot on his dirty little neck where she could steal a kiss.

  "Most of ‘em. Mark and Erik helped, though.” He looked up at her, his blue eyes shining. “We had so much fun, Mom. Last night, we sat up almost until the sun came up and told ghost stories. Erik had some really scary ones, didn't you, Erik? Tell her the one about the Bominal Snowman that lives in the mountains and eats campers for dinner."

  Erik took a long swallow of his beer, avoiding Leigh's eyes. “Later, Aaron. Why don't we take the fish outside and clean them. Then I'll fry them up for dinner, Norwegian-style.” He looked back at her. “Unless, of course, you have something else planned, Kayleigh."

  "Are you kidding? Erik, you can take over my kitchen any time."

  "Great.” He gave her a warm smile and turned back to Aaron. “Come on, liten bror, let's get started.” With a hand on Aaron's shoulder, he followed the boy out the back door.

  "I'll be out to help in a minute, guys,” Mark called after them. “Have to report in with Vicki first."

  Leigh stared at the back door. “Mark, what does liten bror mean?"

  Mark grinned. “Little brother. He's been calling Aaron that all weekend. You should've seen them, Mom. They were, like, glued together. If Erik told Aaron diamonds grew in trees, he'd be out shaking the branches.” Mark gave a rueful laugh. “I felt like the invisible man this weekend. Erik just has a way about him."

  After Mark left to make his phone call, Leigh stood at the kitchen sink, gazing out at the lengthening shadows. It had been a long time since she'd seen such a sparkle in Aaron's eyes.

  * * * *

  That night Leigh dreamed of Erik. It was a hazy dream, but very, very sensual. She and Erik ... making love. Even after she awoke, aroused and heated, she still felt the impression of Erik's tongue tasting her lips, and his hands ... God ... his hands moving over her, touching her breasts, skimming her stomach ... his artistic fingers gently parting her thighs, stoking the fires of her comatose libido.

  The dreams had started after his arrival, but lately, they'd become more frequent. Fantasies, she told herself. Just fantasies. And what was wrong with that? They'd never be anything more.

  Besides, these days, fantasies were all that was left of a sex life.

  * * * *

  "This is the last time you'll get me out to that stadium in weather like this,” Bob growled, hands clenched on the steering wheel.

  Leigh ga
zed out the window at the U.S. Capitol, gray-washed and dingy in the rain. Bob had started in as soon as they'd reached the car in the stadium parking lot. It was a story she'd heard before. Next, he'd complain about the season tickets.

  "As if I could give a shit about the goddamned Redskins. If it weren't for having to keep up appearances...” A BMW cut in front of him and he slammed on the brakes, glaring at the driver. “Asshole.” Then, it was back to the matter at hand. “Three hours. Three fucking hours in the rain. And then those wimps fumble the ball and the Cowboys run it back for a touchdown. This is what I'm paying for?"

  In the back-seat of the Mercedes, Mark, Aaron and Melissa were ominously silent. Like Leigh, they knew there was no reasoning with Bob when he was in one of his black moods. Best thing to do was just grin and bear it.

  "I'd love to go up to Jack Kent Cooke and tell him exactly what I think of his stinking little team..."

  Oh, stuff it. It was all Leigh could do not to speak aloud, but she restrained herself. No sense in subjecting the kids to the shouting match it would bring on.

  It was with a great sense of relief that she saw their exit coming up. She couldn't wait to get into a hot shower; the drizzling rain had chilled her to the bone. Fifteen minutes later, she stood under the hot spray of water and wondered what Erik had done with himself while they were at the game. She'd felt uncomfortable about leaving him at home, but there was nothing else to do. Except for scalpers selling at $300 a shot, Redskin tickets were impossible to get at the gate. Anyway, she'd offered him her seat, but he'd turned it down, insisting he didn't really know much about American football.

  Wrapped in her warmest, oldest fleece robe, Leigh descended the stairs to prepare dinner. Just sandwiches and soup tonight. She hadn't the energy to do anything else. As she passed by the rec room, she noticed a light on and went in. A blazing fire burned cozily in the grate. Nearby, Erik sat comfortably in the big Lazy-Boy recliner, reading. It wasn't that which caused her to stop short. It was the book in his hands. The Taming of the Troll by Hydra Kouripoulous. Illustrations by Leigh Fallon.

  He looked up and smiled. “This is a great story. But the illustrations are truly brilliant."

  So incongruous, thought Leigh. The big blond man sitting there reading a children's picture book. “Thank you,” she managed to say.

  "I hope you don't mind,” he went on. “I mentioned to Aaron that I'd like to look at your illustrations, so this morning, he brought me your books. I've enjoyed reading them."

  Leigh's mouth dropped open. “You're reading the picture books? All of them?"

  "Of course.” His eyebrow lifted at her obvious surprise. “You had to read them to do the illustrations, didn't you?"

  "Yes, but I don't see why you'd want to."

  He closed the book on his lap and lovingly ran a hand over the cover. Leigh found herself almost hypnotized by his hand. It was big, yet artistic, with long slender fingers and neatly squared nails. A burnished down of blond hair matted the surface up to his finely chiseled wrist to disappear under the cuff of his woolen sweater. Sensitive hands, Leigh thought. How would they feel upon her body?

  She shook her head to tear her mind away from that dangerous thought, and realized he was answering her question.

  "I'm working toward my Ph.D. in psychology, remember?” He winked and gave a wry grin. “I thought if I read your books, I could learn more about you."

  Why would you want to, Leigh wanted to ask, but for some reason, felt it better to veer away from that, too. She smiled, trying to keep her tone light. “Well, that would make sense if I wrote the books. But I only draw the pictures."

  "Only?” Erik opened the book again and stared down at it. “Why do you belittle yourself, Kayleigh? Illustrating a book is a great accomplishment. As for me learning about you through your illustrations, you would be surprised what can be determined about psyche through one's art. Why do you think Edvard Munch painted works like ‘Ghosts’ and ‘Chamber of Death?’ He was preoccupied with death, of course."

  Yes, Munch. Leigh was familiar with his work. Especially “The Scream.” Every time she'd seen that painting, she'd felt an empathy for the horrified-looking subject, identifying with the need to let it all out with a healthy scream.

  She sat down on the other chair near the fireplace and curled her legs under her. “I can certainly see that. But you're looking at illustrations I was commissioned to do. All of that stuff came out of Hydra's head, not mine."

  Erik looked at her, and Leigh had the uncanny feeling that his eyes were burning into her soul. “After I first arrived, Mark took me on a tour of the house and showed me your studio. Forgive me, but I took the liberty of glancing through your sketch books and the unframed canvases against the wall. Mark said you wouldn't mind."

  "I don't. I'm not shy about my work."

  "You shouldn't be. You are very good."

  Leigh gave a slight smile. “So, Erik, what did you learn about me from my paintings?"

  He was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his face was serious. “Forgive me for my honesty, Kayleigh. I believe you go through life pretending to be content, trying to be everything to everyone. The perfect wife, the perfect mother. But in doing that, you're neglecting yourself. Kayleigh, you are living in a vacuum, anesthetizing yourself to life.” He stared at her a moment and then spoke again softly, almost as if he were talking to himself. “What will it take to wake you up?"

  She felt the blood draining from her face. Then anger sledge-hammered through her, sending her heart racing. What gave him the right to psychoanalyze her? Who the hell did he think he was? She drew her legs out from under her and stood. Erik stared at her, and in his eyes, she saw a flicker of uncertainty, chagrin, perhaps.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “You don't even know me, Erik.” She was trembling, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Not enough to judge me, anyway. Excuse me. I have to go start dinner."

  She turned and walked out of the rec room, holding her head high. It was only when she reached the kitchen that she took a deep breath and released it in one tremulous sigh. Oh, God ... how had he known?

  Still trembling, she squatted down next to the Lazy Susan and gave it a twirl. She was supposed to be searching for something, but what, for God's sake? Her brain was spinning like the Lazy Susan. She heard a footfall at the door and stiffened.

  "Kayleigh, I apologize,” Erik said quietly. “I have a tendency to tred where I'm not welcome. It drives my family mad. Please, can you forgive me?"

  Slowly, she turned. He stood just inside the kitchen, his face sober, eyes sincere. She wilted, the anger inside her melting away. But she couldn't let him know how close to the truth he'd come. Besides, she wasn't ready to concede that. Yet. She forced herself to look away from him, her eyes scanning the rows of cans. Oh, yes. Soup!

  "Let's just forget it, Erik,” she said. “No harm done."

  "Thank you,” he said quietly.

  Leigh reached for a can of tomato rice soup. “What about tomato rice?” she asked. “Or would you rather have bean with bacon?"

  No response. She turned and looked over her shoulder. Erik was gone.

  * * * *

  On Saturday—a bright, cool October day—Leigh stopped outside Erik's door with a basket of his folded clothes. She knocked, knowing he was inside because she could hear the stereo playing. As he opened the door, she heard her name, but it hadn't come from him. A male voice was belting it out from the compact disc player near Erik's bed. Leigh gaped in surprise. Erik put a finger to his lip and motioned her inside.

  "Listen..."

  She walked in hesitantly, checking to make sure the door remained open behind her. Then she heard her name again.

  Kayleigh, is it too late to say I'm sorry

  Kayleigh, could we get it together again?

  I can't go on pretending that it came to a natural end.

  During a long instrumental bridge, Leigh spoke, “Who is th
is?"

  "A rock group from Scotland. Marillion."

  Leigh grinned. As a teenager, she'd been jealous of all the Sherry's, Carol's, Kathy's and Sheila's who got sung about. Now, finally, someone had used Kayleigh in a song. As the next verse began, Erik motioned her to a chair near the stereo and handed her the lyrics sheet so she could follow along.

  Do you remember barefoot on the lawn with shooting stars

  Do you remember loving on the floor in Belsize Park

  Kayleigh, I just want to say I'm sorry...

  Leigh felt the heat rise and spread across her face at the line “loving on the floor in Belsize Park.” In her mind, she saw herself with Erik and had to force herself to banish the thought. What was with her lately? Sure, she and Bob hadn't had sex for months, but why, suddenly, was it all she could think about?

  Through her eyelashes, she stole a glance at Erik. Dressed in faded jeans and a red-plaid flannel shirt, he relaxed on the bed, his head propped up by an elbow. His flaxen hair was attractively disheveled and his unnerving blue eyes glittered with excitement. At that moment, Leigh was struck by how young he really was. Only twenty-seven. A mere baby. How could she possibly have such lascivious thoughts about him?

  The song ended, and Erik sat up. “Well, what did you think?"

  "Where on earth did you find that song?” Her eyes fell on a Tower Records’ bag lying on the bed. “Did you just buy it?"

  Erik laughed. “Ja. The song was popular a few years ago in Europe. As soon as I heard your name, I was determined to find it. Did you really like it?"

  Leigh stood up. “I loved it. But it must've been a lot of trouble to go through just so you could play it for me."

  Erik jumped up from the bed and stopped the compact disc player in the middle of the next track. The sudden silence in the room made Leigh uneasy, especially when he turned and she saw the penetrating look in his eyes.

  "I've always liked the song,” he said quietly. “But now that I've met you, it means more to me."