Kay David - Obsession

“This is Emma Toussaint,” she said coolly.

“I’d like to speak with my son, please.”

There was a slight pause-a hellish pause-then the woman answered. Her voice was so polite and perfect Emma wanted to throttle her immediately.

“I’m sorry, but Jake isn’t available at the moment.”

“And why is that?” Emma made her own tone even and calm.

“He’s occupied and can’t be disturbed.”

Emma gripped the edge of the windowsill. She was standing in her bedroom, but in her mind’s eye, she saw her son. “He’s seven years old. How ‘occupied’ can he possibly be?”

With the kind of aplomb that only comes from old money, the woman spoke again, ignoring Emma’s question. “I don’t believe it’s the proper day for you to be calling, is it?” The cultured tones dropped. “Are you…confused?”

A flush of heat rushed up her neck and suffused Emma with all the anger she’d been holding in check. “I’m perfectly aware of what day it is.” She spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m going out of town tomorrow, and I thought it might be possible to speak with my children today, instead. They are still mine, you know.”

“You gave birth to them, yes.”

A vein in Emma’s temple began to throb. She could feel it. “What about Sarah?”

“She’s still asleep.”

“And Todd?”

“He’s not here.”

“Then put on Miss Pearl. I’ll talk to her.” A woman who’d ruled the Toussaints’ kitchen forever, Miss Pearl had looked at Emma with pity when Todd had thrown her out. Her pity had stung, but at least she hadn’t turned the other way. She’d tell Emma how the children were, if nothing else.

“Miss Pearl is no longer with the family. A chef from downtown has been hired.”

Emma felt a scream build inside her chest, then all at once, she realized how utterly helpless she was, how hopeless the situation had become. This woman with the cool, measured voice held all the cards. If she wanted to, she could crush Emma and never look back.

Sitting down carefully on the chair beside her bed, Emma took a deep breath. She expelled it softly and spoke as calmly as she could. “All I want is to say hello to my son, and then I’ll hang up and go away. That’s the only thing I need from you.” She waited a moment. “Please let me speak to him.”

She expected the woman to rebuff her coldly, anticipated her refusal. But it didn’t come. Only silence answered her plea. After a second that lasted forever, she finally spoke.

“All right,” she said. “Just a moment and I’ll get him.”

Pure white joy rushed through Emma at the victory, then Jake’s voice came on the line and she focused once more. She had no real idea what he was saying-it was a jumble of words and phrases about horses and school and a new computer game-but that didn’t matter. Only the sound of his voice did. The high-pitched giggles, the little-boy nonsense, the relentless chatter. She soaked it up like a sponge. When he stopped to take a breath, she asked him about his baby sister. “She’s fine,” he answered. “We went to the movies last week and she got to pick, but next week Daddy said I could pick and then…”

He continued for another five minutes, then ran out of steam.

She hung up and cried for fifteen.

WHEN RAUL DROVE UP to Emma’s house, she was waiting for him outside. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and despite the makeup she’d used in an attempt to cover up the evidence, it was more than obvious she’d been crying.

He met her on the sidewalk and stepped inside her walled garden, pulling the gate shut behind him. “What’s wrong?”

She started to shake her head in a motion of denial, then stopped. “I just had a telephone run-in with my husband’s fiancée. She tried to keep me from talking to my son…and I let it get to me.”

Raul wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, a surge of rage running through him that someone had this kind of power over her. Emma’s body felt frail and she was trembling, but underneath the sadness, he could tell there was anger, too.

Her tears came fast and hard like a summer storm. “I’m so…sorry…”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

She continued crying, her head against his chest, until the sobs finally began to ebb. After a moment, she looked up at him and he saw that her irises had darkened into a deep forest green. She stared back, clearly pulled by an invisible force that neither of them could deny, no matter how much they might want to-or need to.

They stood that way, apart yet together, then she shocked him. She deliberately raised her arms and linked them around his neck, drawing his head to hers. As soon as he was close enough, she began to kiss him. It was a kiss of need. She wanted him to obliterate the misery, to take away the pain of what she had just gone through, and she knew exactly what she was doing.

He obliged her without thinking twice.

She murmured his name into his open mouth as he smoothed his fingers down her back, then lower to the curve of her hip. Beneath his hands, her body was soft and giving, and a rush of desire coursed through him. As if she felt the same jolt, Emma moved even closer. He held her for as long as he dared, the kiss becoming more passionate as her breasts pressed into his chest, then he pulled back. He had to.

She looked up, her mouth slightly open, lips swollen.

“Maybe we should go inside,” he said.

She nodded, turned and started up the walk. He followed, and a few seconds later they were inside. He opened his arms to pull her to him, but at that very moment, somewhere in the house the phone rang.

Their eyes locked and held, then she backed away from him, her sandals whispering against the floor as she turned and crossed the hall. He leaned against the front door and took a deep breath.

He heard her murmuring voice rise slightly, as if in argument or disbelief, and he started forward in the direction she had taken, toward the back of the house. He found her in the kitchen, gripping the phone.

“How bad is it?” she asked with concern in her voice.

She listened to the answer, then seeing Raul’s questioning expression, shook her head.

“I hate to hear that,” she said after a moment.

“But I understand. Stay in bed and take care of yourself.”

She listened for another minute, then spoke. “I’ll be fine,” she said quietly. “Don’t worry. No, no. It’s okay.”

She hung up. “That was Reina. She’s sick, something she picked up from a client.” She started to say something more, but instead, paused and shifted her stance to look out the kitchen window to the garden beyond. Clearly she was trying to make a decision, and Raul stood by silently. Finally she spoke again, her back to him.

“Maybe it’d be best for you to leave,” she said.

“This isn’t important and we don’t have to go.”

He waited for a second, then made his own decision and crossed to where she stood. Placing his hands on her shoulders, Raul experienced again what he’d tried to stem outside, an emotion he didn’t want.

He forced the feeling down, back into the box where it belonged. Turning Emma to face him, he looked into her uncertain eyes. “Let’s go without Reina. I want to see Samaipata. And you need to take the bank’s donation.”

“I’m not sure…” Her words trailed off.

“If you don’t show up, you’ll disappoint the children.”

She nodded slowly.

“It’ll be okay.”

She looked up at him then, and his unspoken message communicated itself through his touch and his gaze. She nodded again, and they left.

THE TRIP WENT BY fast. Raul was a good driver, and the Range Rover handled the horrible road as if it were the finest highway. They arrived at the orphanage in record time, which was good for Emma because she was an emotional wreck.

She’d thrown herself at him like some kind of desperate woman. She hadn’t had any other choice; her need to feel some kind of love had swept through her like a tornado. As addictive as a drug, his embrace had felt too good, too safe, too wonderful to ignore. She’d never done that kind of thing before with any man, but Raul made her do a lot of things she hadn’t done before. Like ignore her better judgment. Instead of kissing him, she should have been asking him about what Reina had told her. Deep down, though, Emma didn’t want to ask, because she didn’t want to know the answer. The consequences of Raul’s having been in prison were something she couldn’t deal with right now. Maybe later, but not now.

Emma was happy to see the main street of Samaipata. The tiny village was a madhouse-there were people everywhere preparing for the parade, laughing and hanging crepe-paper roses, calling out to each other and decorating windows with bright paint. Emma gave directions to Raul, and within a few minutes they were driving up to the compound.

“Park over there.” She pointed toward a shaded area just outside the wall that surrounded the buildings. “We can get the kids to unload everything.”

Raul nodded and eased the truck to the spot she indicated. Then, before he could even cut the engine, the gates flew open and a flock of children-all girls-spilled from the opening and ran toward them. Behind them came two nuns. Dressed in brown habits with hems that brushed the ground, the two women beamed and waved to Emma.

Emma introduced Raul to the nuns as they climbed from the truck. “This is Sister Maria and Sister Abelia,” she said. “They work here with the children.”

Raul shook hands with the two women. Their fingers were rough and work-worn, and he could only imagine the tasks they accomplished every day just to keep the place running.

They greeted him in Spanish and a little broken English, then began to chatter with Emma. The children swirled around them like a cloud of unbridled energy. Raul watched in awe, though Emma had already prepared him for what to expect. The girls ranged in age from three to eighteen, and they all wore the same thing-white dresses with blue trim. There were 120 students in the parochial school, none of them boys.