076:
The investigation into who had planted the explosives in Ray's car that Richard and Tracy had been in was tabled after two weeks of dead ends. Whoever this person was, they were extremely serious about punishing Tracy for Casey's death. Completely deranged, was the official New York City cop determination. Ray arrived to oversee work on the front of his home, and after six weeks Tracy was able to take Steven home to California.
There had been three ship to shore satellite calls from Raine to Tracy. These left her empowered. Exhilarated. Raine also talked to Richard every time thanking him for being there for Tracy and reminding him who he was to her.
Richard left to make arrangements for the new movie he was doing. And he finally talked Tracy into doing it with him, partly with the feeling that the two of them were reluctant to be separated right now. Not to mention, his idea of her going to Wales to be with Ray and Shanna, closer to Bridget and Julian, closer to her biological mother, Lorraine, in London.
But before any filming or travel could take place, Tracy made sure she downloaded the music in her head with Michael at Rocks. It was here she brought both boys and Monday to take care of them, overseeing all their food herself, only the healthiest. Grandma Coral came to take care of them on Monday's day off too.
She came into the room, headphones around her neck, her back plastered in sweat from playing to the camera in her latest video. Michael looked up.
"Got it done? I need you back in here." He eyed her outfit, one he'd seen her record in before, but never film in. Some things about her were trademark, but private. He let his surprise show. She wore a sleek one piece leotard, white glistening, sleeveless, her hair up and straggling wildly, silver leg warmers encased shapely calves, and bare feet peeked out of the bottom of a swirling, gauzy see-through dance skirt. She wore her magnetic bracelets faithfully, but he knew she managed her current by grounding out either with Richard or in the sea. He scowled at her unfavorably.
"I need to feed the baby."
"Let Monday or Coral or somebody do it. I've got you scheduled for right now till three. We've got deadlines, girl."
With a raised brow, and a saucy and annoyed expression, she flipped him off. And then with good-natured finality, she headed into the makeshift nursery, a glass windowed anteroom, she'd had built into this one recording room, so she could see her babies while she worked. She'd had a kitchenette put in, along with every Little Tykes house toy ever made for Danny and his cousin, Alana, Miles' little girl. Coral sat in the rocker with Steven, now growing like a two and a half-month-old weed.
"Tracy!" Michael thundered, and Tracy turned the speaker in the room off, so she didn't have to hear him, and she locked the door as well. She sat in the second rocker and frowned at him through the glass.
He threw up his hands. The phone in the small room rang and Coral answered it, her red hair pressed to the receiver. "Oh, no!" Was her only explanation, before Michael nodded, making the sign for phone against his ear, his chin waggling in annoyance.
"What is it?"
"Your house in Laguna has been vandalized, and you're to go to Austin's for the night, although I can't see how that would help, you should come home with me." Coral's eyes were classically worried.
"Vandalized? What the heck?"
"He didn't say, it was Richard. He's all over this stuff, but one step behind the guy, or guys." Coral was shaking her head.
"I can't do this, Mom, this is driving me crazy! Who could be so stupid? Who could be so into this? I can't even move! I'm beginning to be afraid of moving." She hung her head and felt her fingers shaking against the baby's blanket. Her legs were hopping in agitation.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart."
"Richard would want me to go to Austin's so we can run lines. That's all." Tracy looked up, her lips thin and white. "We start filming next week." She sighed, looking into Steven's now changed deep blue eyes staring up at her over the rim of his bottle trustingly.
The phone instantly rang again. Coral pulled the cord over to hand it to Tracy.
"Where are you?" The curt male voice couldn't belong to anyone other than the one who haunted her waking dreams.
"Where do you think? You called Rocks, didn't you?"
"Don't even think of going home."
"It's bad, huh? Did you see it? Did they catch them?" She sounded less freaked out, and more angry. It was high time these vandals were stopped. "Where are you, by the way?"
"On set in Frisco watching my stunt double roll my car and kill it. Tons of fun. No, I didn't see it." This was more like the voice she heard day in and day out, ten times a day checking on her like an overprotective guardian.
"I don't see why I have to go anywhere. They're not there now. Is it damaged? Another bomb?"
"I've hired a detective to find these creeps. Hope you don't mind."
"No, it's your job brother dear, just send me the bill." Her eyes slid to Coral's. "I've got another hour here, think you can handle it? You guys could go up to the cafeteria...."
Coral shook her head and glanced at her watch. "I think we'll get pizza for dinner. You can at least eat with us."
Tracy nodded. She burped Steven and then gave him back the bottle. "You want to run lines, is that it?"
"You know it, baby. This just makes it that much easier. Sorry about your place. We'll check it out tomorrow, for sure. I should be home in an hour and a half."
"What? Are you flying? Who is flying you?"
"I'm flying me with my trainer, Billy Kelvyn."
"I know your trainer, idiot, okay, I just didn't realize you were logging solo hours. When did you practice? Over the weekend? I thought you were filming straight."
They spoke like siblings, and she knew it, or like very close friends, which she guessed they'd become. What she didn't let herself acknowledge was how often she called him, and he her, and how much she relied on him. And how his voice and eyes turned her cold, heavy heart to spicy pudding. She closed her eyes, picturing him dark hair slicked back, facial scruff just trimmed perfectly, piercing blue eyes so shockingly crinkled at the corners..... every now and then she thought about him that way, and then she banished the thought behind her barrier and didn't let it surface again. She absolutely couldn't acknowledge the uneasiness she felt at her own day-dreaming.
She hung up with Richard, gave Steven back to grandma, and went to placate and bust Michael's butt with some concentrated hard work, so he'd get off her case. Then she left for dinner, and then to Austin's.
Die-hard fans were out front of his closed off, gated home in Malibu, and Tracy instructed Jake to get her into the house unseen and un-photographed. Jake wouldn't let her out of the car and into the house without first clearing the place. Once that was done, Tracy's headache had blossomed into a migraine, and she was frustrated and frazzled by Danny's millionth question and Steven's annoyed crying.
Not to mention her build was making everyone around her on edge, and the baby whom she could normally calm, started screaming. If she didn't get to the ocean soon, she was going to throw up. She held Steven up to her face and nuzzled his lips, something she'd started doing in the night to calm him. He latched on to her lip, squeezing his little eyes closed against the neon bright lights against the dark sky. His hiccupping broke her heart.
She tried not to break the seal of baby and lip as Jake opened the car door for her. "I need to get to the beach." She mumbled against the frantically sucking child. Jake nodded.
"Where's Monday?"
"She off." Tracy slurred.
She stumbled around the side of the house, flinging her sandals into the garden, and grass, glad for the cool sand. Danny was following her. The summer air was balmy.
A flash went off nearby, and Tracy started, pulling the baby off . He geared up to scream.
"Oh, my God, freaking so sorry, here, hold him up again, Trace, one more, okay? Just one more..." The flash blinded her again.
"Dammit, Marc, is that you!? Get out of here." She screeched. "I can't believe you!"
"I got word you were coming here, gees, Trace, that's crap these vandals are pulling. They think you had something to do with Casey's death, is that it? You didn't, right Trace? Did you guys fight before he died?"
"Marc! I hate you! Get away. I've got a bad headache. I'm going to be sick, get the heck away. Jake!"
More flashes, more baby screaming, even Danny was crying. Jake came barreling around the corner.
"Marc Shepherd, you son of a ----." Jake ran at him, ready to do battle, but the lithe young paparazzi was quick. He snapped a few more and then disappeared around some hedges.
"Jake." Tracy called, having fallen to her knees. "Can you take them inside for just a few minutes? I just need to ground out."
"Pass out is more like it." Jake took Steven on an experienced arm. "Richard's here, and he can ground you out. Yeah."
The crying receded into the balmy night, as Jake took the boys into the house shaking his head, muttering about his duties. Tracy made it down to the water, didn't bother to strip, and dove headlong into the surf where she threw up the pizza she'd had for dinner.
She sat on the wet sand, letting the surf lap her feet, feeling cold and alone--- angry, cold and alone--- overwhelmed--- invaded---
Did all women face these issues?
Did all celebrities work this hard and then have their homes invaded?
Did others who suffered her condition--- were there others?
She felt like crying. But not even crying, something more than crying. Some kind of under the surface welling of uncontrolled emotion. She wanted to cry and cry and cry and never stop. The usual distractions weren't working--- she felt despair, for the first time in her life--- utter despair.
She knew when he came. He sat behind her, his legs framing hers in the wet sand. He put his arms around her and diffused the build, laying his head against her back, his hands over hers. It wasn't Raine, and she wished it was so bad--- because she wanted to turn, and be held, and feel skin on skin, and let herself feel love and attraction. She wanted to be kissed, and have him run his hands all over her body, and take away the loneliness and the imposed isolation.
Richard would have given her those things.
And Richard was all she had.
"Life is complicated." He whispered in her ear, moving her hair aside, the relief was palpable, the headache began to dissipate.
"But it's my life." She said woodenly, her arms clasped tightly around her middle. "My choices made it this way."
She felt him shrug. "True."
"But I can't control it all."
"No." He rubbed her wrist with his thumb. She was shaking from cold and fatigue.
"I have to stay ahead of the game. I need a plan, a better plan, and a backup plan, and the things I can control can't become the things that I can't control."
"Unless you want to cut some things out of your life."
She trembled. "Not possible."
"I get it."
"I have to do it all. I made my bed. I'll sleep in it."
"Yes, you will."
"Don't sound so smug."
"I'm not sounding smug. I'm trailing in the Tracy McCaffrey Maverick speedboat wake. Just on the outskirts, baby, watching you plunge into wave after wave of unbelievable tides."
"I can accept that."
"You might need to get some help. Like some counseling."
"I have a counselor."
"Then make an appointment."
"Stop it, or it'll be you I cut out of my life. Don't tell me what to do."
There were no words. Richard couldn't think of a single retort. He really couldn't even think of anything to think. If he allowed himself to get caught in the moral ramifications of even this small act, then he would have to face the fact that she was another man's wife and he had no business at all holding her like this. If he let himself think that he was preparing for a mission and holding another man's wife, the same thing happened. Guilt. If he thought about not holding her, not helping her, when he knew he could, not taking the burdens when his heart bled for her as she tried on the roles of wife and mother without anything but sheer determination and a will to succeed that rivaled the strongest he'd ever seen--- he felt the breath leave him. It wasn't in him, any more than it had been in her. They were two peas in a pod. He understood her frustration and anger. He couldn't distance himself from what he saw in her, the integrity, the purpose, the compassion. She couldn't distance herself from where she thought her place was either, no matter the cost.
He could hear her heartbeat. He could feel the crashing of the surf in her body, like a litany. Almost like hearing her music. Or hearing through her out to the sea.
Tracy was rubbing his fingers. She wanted to be held so badly. She wanted to be touched. To share the new and strong emotions she was feeling. She swallowed. It couldn't be Richard though. It was wrong to want it with Richard. But somehow she couldn't picture Raine when Richard was holding her.
I can't add confusion to the mix, she thought. Richard is just Richard. Like Jules is just Jules. I happen to have guy friends who I am very close to. Leave it at that.
She stared at his hands holding hers. She knew they were tanned brown and hairy on the backs. With minute wrinkles and creases. She shuddered. His hands were a lot bigger than hers. She focused on every detail she could feel as other memories plunged through her---- Casey, the films, her dad, so many events, so many things... and no stability.....nothing for sure.
She unlaced her fingers and took his hand and placed it over her stomach. "I have no one to share it with." She said slowly, softly, as if discovering it right then for herself.
Richard let his fingers splay out over her abdomen, feeling the contours of ribcage, the indentation of belly, the softness of wet skin through her shirt. "I'm not sure Raine would want me to be the one taking his place right now."
He kept his cheek against her back, listening to her through her body.
"I can't do it all alone." Her admission was very soft, almost non-existent.
"Honey...." He couldn't tell her either, she'd made the choices to be alone right now, she'd made the choice to take it all on.
She wasn't crying, he could hear her breathe, and knew she wasn't crying. Her hands were smooth and firm over his.
"Everything is changing inside me. I'm not just me, there's someone else now, and it's a miracle."
Richard squeezed his eyes shut. Yeah, a miracle, and he planted it there, he gave it to you, he made you feel these things and then.... Now.... he isn't here to hold you and experience the awe of it all with you.
How many times was she going to put him through this? She took so much for granted. And how often would he come to her aid? How much could he take knowing she wasn't his, and being the substitute for a newlywed husband--- sharing, but not sharing?
It was so intimate. His hands, both hands, flat against her stomach, his cheek against her back and there----
She gasped. "Did you....?"
"Feel it?" He finished as a wave of electricity shot through him. "Yeah."
"I think it was the baby."
"Like a roll under my finger."
"Richard, I felt it too. Like the first time, I felt it too." She turned to look at him, her eyes full of excitement and then confusion and then bewilderment, and finally, she hugged him. "Oh God, thank you Richard, thank you for being here, thank you for holding me. I know it hurts you, but thank you for doing it anyway."
"It doesn't hurt me." He thought she meant the diffusing.
"I mean, it's hard, not being married.... You said sometimes you felt jealous... I'm sorry for that."
"Well, there's nothing you can do about it, you don't feel that way about me."
She pulled her knees up and leaned back against him securely, wrapping his hands around her knees. They stared out at the ocean feeling the freedom and the lack of build.
"You always put me first." She murmured.
"It's what friends do." He wished he meant that, wished it didn't kill him to say it. "I'm sorry about the vandalism, and the ferret. If you want I can get you another."
"It's okay. Maybe now isn't the right time. I will miss him, though."
She moved away a bit, leaning into the wind, and Richard felt bereft, having savored the moments with her in his arms, feeling like he was stealing, though, and determined not to acknowledge the guilt just yet.
"I have---." He cleared his throat. "I have two tickets to a concert tonight."
"Ticket's? To see who?" She turned just slightly, but the house lights caught her sparkling eyes, and it was gratifying to see the interest in them.
"It's a surprise--- but it's somebody you would love to see. Can Monday watch the little guys?"
"You're asking me?"
"Absolutely. It's what friends do." He nodded, his chin catching her sudden playful twitch.
"Really?" He loved the sudden catapult into giddy Tracy-ism.
"You can't wear your moccasins, though."
"Why not?" She stood and reached for his hand, pulling him up.
"Too trademark, along with that hair. You have to be Tracy incognito to go to a concert with me. So just tennies."
"Sandals?"
"Is that all you have?"
"No, I have tennies."
He laughed and rumpled her wet hair. "Wear the sneakers then."
*******