Authors: Carmella Jones
V.
Karissa’s words brought reality rushing into Buck’s foggy mind like the bursting of a dam. He sat up on the bunk and stared at her, unsure of how to respond. When he finally did, it was the only words that would form on his lips. “You’re pregnant?”
“Yes,” she answered simply.
Buck closed his eyes and shook his head in an attempt to clear away the effects of several weeks of drunkenness. With reality rushing in upon him rapidly, he was forced to try to regain some semblance of rationality. He looked around the cabin, suddenly embarrassed by its condition. She shouldn’t have had to see him like that. His mouth was dry and he glanced toward a half empty bottle on the table. He licked his lips and tried to force the thought of picking it up out of his mind. He had to get out of there. He had to get her out of there.
“Let’s go out on the porch,” he said, rising up from the cot and starting toward the door.
Karissa backed out of the doorway and waited for him to cross the small room. She had watched his foggy mind clear within the space of a minute. He hadn’t questioned whether or not he was the father. He had too much respect for her to even suggest anything different. The embarrassment in his eyes had registered next, as did his glance toward the bottle on the table. In that moment, she saw the first steps of his spirit returning to his empty shell.
Buck hadn’t spent much time in the sun since he’d buried himself inside the bunkhouse. Its bright rays had burned him as they contradicted the darkness that lingered around him. Stepping out onto the porch was a force of will, the likes of which he hadn’t seen in several weeks. He motioned her toward one of the two chairs on the porch and then lowered himself into the other, squinting against the light.
“How have you been?” he asked, trying to put a bold face on things. No doubt, she had moved on with her work and her life while he had been working at trying to erase and destroy his own.
“How have I been?” What the hell kind of a response was that? She had just announced that she was pregnant and he wanted to know how she had been. “You heard what I said, right?”
“Yeah, I did,” he responded. He knew that he’d gotten under her skin with his question. It had more or less slipped out. Maybe he ought to have asked another one, but his mind was still working on catching up. The truth of the matter was that he really wanted to know how she’d been. It was obvious how he’d been. He motioned with a thumb over his shoulder toward the door of the bunkhouse. “You can see what I’ve been doing. I hope you’ve been doing better than that.”
Karissa realized that he was sorting through things and that, in reality, his concern, in that moment, was for her. Though the question was a little bit too direct, it was a sign that Buck Kaufman was, once again, trying to be his old self. “Things could have been better for me too.”
Buck’s mind was beginning to catch up to the conversation. He wasn’t sure how she wanted him to proceed from that point forward, but he knew that he had to step up to the plate. He struggled with how to tell her that. “I, uh, I… I’ll take responsibility and do right by you.” The words came out hollow and he knew they weren’t the right ones, but they were the only ones that he could put together in that moment.
“I guess I don’t know what I was expecting you to say,” she replied. “But that wasn’t it.”
“Jesus, Karissa,” he began, and then softened his tone. “I’ve spent the last several weeks staring down the neck of a bottle while I tried to kill the ache of losing the ranch. There aren’t a lot of things in my future or even my present that are very clear to me right now.”
She knew he was speaking the truth. Maybe she had expected too much from the meeting. Over the past several weeks, she had sorted through her feelings about him and about the two of them. She had realized that, though they came from entirely different worlds and she was just beginning to understand his, she had grown to love him. The release of her pent up passion on the leather sofa of her office had been an enormous surprise to her, though, throughout the following weeks she had begun to see that it was inevitable.
Though things had become strange between them, she had understood that he was going to need some space and time to get over the enormous loss that he’d suffered. In reality, she too needed some time to work on her own guilt for being a part of that loss. Her hope had been that once they’d both settled things for themselves, they’d come back together again. She had been tossed into her own brand of confusion when she’d discovered that she was pregnant. It hadn’t come at a very good time for either of them.
She decided to make an attempt at doing what she’d seen him do so many times. Maybe it would loosen things up between them. “Hell of a time for me to be getting’ pregnant, huh?” she ventured. She knew that she’d said the right thing when she saw the corner of his upper lip twitch into a grin.
“I don’t suppose there’s ever a good time.”
She decided to answer his question. “I’ve been okay; neither good nor bad. I guess I’ve just forced myself to keep going, but I haven’t really been happy. Is that what you’re asking?”
“After a fashion, I suppose.” He looked up at her for a long moment without speaking. The emptiness that had been in his eyes was slowly filling up with life again. Being in the light wasn’t hurting as bad as it did before and being in her presence had provided some sort of healing power to him. The man who had crawled inside the bottle was coming back out and trying to stand up again. “You look a hell of a lot better than I do.”
He looked down at his filthy, sweat-stained t-shirt and jeans. He was suddenly aware of his own stench as well. As long as he was looking and smelling the way he was, he really couldn’t expect himself to really make the turn around. He was ashamed of himself. His failures had been a heavy load to bear, but to have collapsed under their weight the way he had was suddenly a hundred times worse to him. He couldn’t stand to continue sitting with her as long as he was in that condition.
“Can I as a favor?” he asked.
“Sure,” she responded, wondering what he could possibly want her to do for him.
“Can I ask you to get the hell out of here and let me clean up? This is embarrassing.”
Realizing how she would feel if their roles were reversed, she stood. “Jesus, Buck, I’m sorry. Maybe I should have called first.”
“No, you did the right thing,” he replied. “Just, let me get myself together and then I’ll come join you for dinner later.”
She took a step toward him to give him a hug, but he stepped back, refusing her. “Not right now.”
Disappointed, but fully understanding, she turned away and took several steps. She heard the screen door on the porch close behind her. She stopped and turned back. “Buck, I’ve fallen in love with you.” With that said, not waiting for a response, she hurried to her car.
VI.
Her words as she was leaving him out at Charlie’s place had struck him deeply. He’d never imagined that she’d felt that way about him. He’d felt similar stirrings of his own, but he’d denied allowing himself to feel them given his circumstances and the way that he had reacted to his loss. Cleaned up and in a better frame of mind, they had met for dinner, picking up casual conversation in almost the same place that they had left it before the court ruling and the weeks of hell that had followed.
The week that followed found the two of them recovering their relationship, though it was done more in her world than in his. There were no horses, no wide open spaces and no gentle breezes to set the tone, but they discovered that those things were no longer necessary. Without the divorce lingering over their heads, they felt liberated from the trappings that had surrounded them before. When Karissa invited him back to her place, it was a signal that they had finally come full circle and were beginning to see a future together for the two of them.
Buck hadn’t forgotten the words that he’d heard come from her mouth and pass through the screen door of the bunkhouse, neither had he forgotten the response of his leaping heart and quickening pulse. He’d buried every feeling he’d had in the bottle of a whiskey bottle and, until that moment hadn’t allowed them to surface again. When Karissa set aside their glasses and took his hand to lead him toward her bedroom, he pulled back against her.
“What’s the matter?” she asked, watching his eyes for some signal of what was going on in his mind.
“You said something to me when you were out at Charlie’s place a week or so ago,” he replied.
Karissa could remember the entire conversation, but there was only one thing that she had said that had really stuck out in her mind since that day. Was it the same thing? She waited silently for him to tell her.
“You pulled me up out of the hole that I’d dug for myself. Hell, had you not come along, I might have ended up dead. Though I didn’t know it at the time, the moment that I saw you standing in that doorway and heard your voice…” He paused for a moment. “I knew that I was in love with you too. With my mind clear, I know that I still am.”
“Cowboy,” she grinned, pulling even harder on his hand as she tugged him along behind her. “I already knew that. If you don’t get me back in that bedroom and get rid of these clothes so that we can make love right this instant, then I’m the one who is going to wind up dead.”
The passion that had come upon them on the leather sofa had returned and they had already started to shed items of clothing on their way to her bedroom. Once they arrived in the room, shucking the remaining clothes was a matter of desperation and they tended to it as quickly as they could, but then the pace slowed as he stepped toward her gazing deep into her eyes.
Where they had rushed in blind passion before, Buck took his time to examine her body and caress her smooth skin. It appeared to Karissa that he was memorizing every inch of her and drinking it all in for some later time. Little did she know that he’d endured fantasies of seeing her before him in that way and had kicked himself for not having taken his time before. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.
The feel of him caressing her was only intensified by the way his eyes would meet hers and sparkle with hints of his delight as he explored and enjoyed certain areas of her flesh. When his mouth and lips tenderly came to her, she felt her knees begin to weaken and was afraid that she might collapse. She took several steps backward and pulled him down onto the bed.
Though he might have taken her in that very moment, he continued to linger, kissing, caressing and exploring her body, just like he had been doing before. It was torturously slow. She was aching with desire to feel him inside of her, yet his delicious touch was sending so many electrically charged tingles throughout her body that she couldn’t bear stopping him.
The ache inside of her continued to build, especially when his mouth found the smooth mound between her thighs and then began to work its magic on the erect bud that was throbbing with desire below it. Her ache grew at the mercy of his mouth until an explosion of pleasure that radiated throughout her body forced a growl of pleasure out of her throat.
Encouraged by her climax, Buck moved up between her thighs, moving as slowly and tenderly as he had before, but Karissa was having none of that. Reaching between her thighs, she grasped his rigid erection and guided it inside of her, gasping at the feeling of fullness that it provided.
He began with long, slow strokes that allowed her to feel every inch of him, but soon increased the pace and the strength of them until the two of them were rushing toward a climax together. It would be the first of many that they enjoyed that night. Between them, they continued to caress each other and kiss while gazing into each other’s eyes until the light of dawn began to spill in through a slit in the curtains.
“I guess you know that I don’t have a lot to take care of you and the baby,” he confessed as they were, once again, trying to catch their breath. “It isn’t much of a start, but like I told you before, I’ll do my be…”
“Shhh,” she said, pressing a finger to his lips. “I had some money and made a substantial investment earlier this week.”
“You don’t mean?” He sat up and stared at her with an astonished look on his face. It seemed to be too good to be true.
“I do mean,” she laughed. “But I think I’d rather call it Karissa’s Spread.”
“You can call it any damned thing you want,” he replied before pressing his lips against hers.
*****
THE END
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Blood of the Queen
In the more glamorous tomes of history, empires seem to always collapse because of one fatal and grand strike at the heart of it all. However, in Aurora's experience, she saw more empires fall thanks to steady decline and slow deterioration. The general peasantry seemed not to notice the declining state of the Romanian empire at this stage. To the nobles and the aristocrats, the decline was all too clear.
No one thing was responsible for this decline, but the fact of Gothic invasions from the west being a pestilence to her country, the crops failing for two consecutive years, and a withdrawal of support from the Roman Catholics in the country, among other things, fed into the deterioration of Romania's glory. Perhaps their architecture and art was above the bar for standard, but not all the art in the world would save them from falling into a bloody war with German tribes and crumbling.
Even if it weren't for the German barrage, Aurora's power on the empire was slipping. She refused to cooperate with the Huns--a long standing tradition of her people. Though the Great Khan did not seem to be too offended by this choice, the aristocracy were outraged by the decision. Breaking ties with the violent and backstabbing group of the Huns seemed to Aurora to be a no brainer, yet it was a political suicide of sorts.
The grip that Aurora now held on the throne was more tenuous than ever, both from events in which she authored, and events which were relics of past generations and of current world turmoil. Being the first queen to rule of Romania in many generations was a tough enough hurdle for Aurora to overcome, but scarcely did she establish her dominance and independence did all the trouble which threatened to take away her throne emerge.
This was a matter of pride to Aurora now, more than it was anything else. She felt as though she belonged on the throne, and that she was the best to guide her people through the hardship that they were facing. Therefore, she could not possibly give up the crown to some other upstart who was cocky enough to think all the problems of Romania could be solved simply. No, all those who were eligible to take Aurora's place on the throne, should she decide it was time to step down, were young and foolhardy.
Granted, Aurora was a young queen herself. She was seventeen when she took the throne, and twenty-five now, as the end of her nation seemed to be looming over the horizon. If she did lose Romania, what would people think? Would they ascribe the loss as incompetence by the leader? Would she be seen as weak simply because she was a woman? Or would history view her kindly, and assume that it was mostly the jumbled mess left behind by some old dead guys that were in the ground before they had to deal with the trouble that they had wrought?
Aurora simply sighed as her thoughts turned down that avenue. She knew full well what the answer to her question was. She would be labeled as an incompetent failure, regardless of the circumstance. Without even taking her gender into account, the historians never favored the last ruler of a nation, who ultimately oversaw its ruin. Give these same historians the chance to ridicule the leader for being a "weak" woman, and they would have a hayday with the opportunity.
Granted, in dire times such as these, perhaps it was best to put vanity to the side in place of other concerns. Yet all Aurora could do was worry these days, whether upon herself or matters of the country.
"Dear God, but this situation is hopeless," she muttered to herself while sitting at her vanity and looking at her reflection.
"If you take that attitude, then indeed it is, Madam," Dracule, Aurora's butler, said calmly. Aurora nearly jumped out of her seat.
"Dracule!" she said in surprise, turning to look at him. He had a habit of entering rooms as silently as a ghost, and lingering like one, too. Though this propensity was a bit odd, Aurora usually liked how interesting he could make things a bit more interesting. Needless to say, this time around she was not as pleased with his antics.
"Yes, Madam," he replied, a ghost of a smile sneaking onto his pale lips.
"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" Aurora demanded.
"I have indeed, and I understand it in theory," Dracule replied, but when he saw that Aurora's grimace did not fade while he spoke, he bowed slightly. "My apologies for having upset you, Madam. I fancy myself a joker without the idiotic get up, though perhaps I should keep my fancies confined to my own head," Dracule said.
Aurora's tension relaxed upon hearing that. "No, no. I require none of your apologies. I'm just tense," Aurora replied. Dracule was her favorite servant to be sure. If he wasn't, he wouldn't attempt having such a loose tongue when around the queen. Yet, even he had his limits of speech around her.
"I understand, Madam. There is great reason to be. Things are difficult now, but you are as capable a leader as I've ever seen," Dracule said.
"That's not too impressive, considering you've only seen two, Dracule," Aurora replied. Dracule knew Aurora, of course, and also had worked under her father. But he was but ten years older than Aurora, so he saw no other rulers of Romania.
"Well, your father was well liked, and I'm telling you that you're as good as he was. Isn't that something to ease your troubled mind?" Dracule asked.
"My father wasn't facing the Germanic invasion, or a drought. I wish I knew what I was doing so differently," Aurora said.
"Perhaps you're not paying proper respects to the rain god. When you dance, is your ceremony clockwise, or counter clockwise?"
"Oh, haha," Aurora replied, not too amused by Dracule's sarcasm. "If only this could be resolved through something that simple,"Aurora said with a sigh.
"Complicated situations require complicated solutions. But you know this well, Madam," Dracule said. He dropped his air of sarcastic joking for a moment to talk more seriously with his mistress, much to her relief.
"I know this well, Dracule. But this knowledge doesn't make the burden any less of a cross to bear," Aurora sighed.
"I think it's best for you to spend some time thinking rather than being pestered by me, Madam," Dracule said, then bowed. "I'll see myself out."
"Very well," Aurora said, and remained at her seat until she heard the door click, signifying that Dracule had left.
Once he was gone, she sat and stared at her reflection for a while. She had fine features, usually something treasured on an aristocratic woman. Yet, these soft and delicate features that she possessed just furthered everyone's opinion that she was weak even further. She wished she had a strong jaw, a bigger nose, a shorter brow. But no, she was a model for the virgin Madonna, if only she was holding a haloed baby.
These thoughts just made Aurora sigh, and she stood up, going over to the bed and burrowing under the covers. Soon, a deep sleep overtook her. For a little while at least, she could cease to worry about her wondering and self deprecating thoughts and just focus on resting her tired body.
In the darkness of her mind while she rested, the image of Dracule came before her consciousness. She was dreaming, but what an odd dream it was. In the blank and darkness of her sleeping psyche, she stood in a seemingly endless voice with Dracule standing before her. Before she could ask him what the meaning of this whole thing was, he spoke.
"What would you do to protect your people?" Dracule asked, his voice echoing throughout the realm of her mind.
"I would do anything," Aurora replied without hesitation.
"Anything? Even sacrifice yourself?" Dracule asked, keeping all his seriousness in tact.
Aurora hesitated slightly, but then nodded. "Yes. Even sacrifice myself," she replied resolutely.
"What if it was only a chance of saving your people? Would you do it then?" Dracule asked.
At this, Aurora was thrown for a loop. Would she sacrifice herself for merely a chance at saving her people? That was a harder question, because a mere gamble was a dangerous thing to put her life on the line for. Still, considering withot some help, she and Romania were both doomed, she did nod again.
"Yes, I would," Aurora replied, obviously hesitant, but the risk was still worth it.
"It's a shame you rule the country now, Aurora. Or rather, it's a shame and a blessing. To see us out of these hard times, we need a ruler willing to be as selfless as you are. But at the same time, if you ruled during a prosperous time, I can only imagine what good you would be able to do for us," Dracule said with a smile.
"What is the meaning of this, Dracule?" Aurora demanded. Typically she enjoyed Dracule's digressions, but now was not the time. He seemed on the cusp of revealing something of great import.
"If you're serious about this, meet me in the shrine of your predecessors," Dracule replied, and his form gradually began to fade.
Aurora stared, not quite knowing how to react to her butler's disappearing act. Still, she had to ask other question, more pertinent questions. "But wait, don't go yet. What gamble would you have me do? And when should I meet you?" Aurora asked.
"You'll know when the time is right, Madam," Dracule said with a chuckle as his form finally disappeared in its entirety.
Aurora just tried to reach out where she saw that Dracule had vanished, all to no avail.
In what felt like an instant, Aurora found herself awake, sitting up and heaving for breath. That was perhaps the strangest dream that she had ever had. Certainly that dream was just her desperation playing tricks on her mind? Yes, that had to be it.
So, Aurora convinced herself of that and went about her daily duties for a few days, until she felt this strange compulsion to go to the Shrine of Rulers, where all her predecessors had their mark on the country and on the castle recorded in plaques and busts of their likeness carved into the wall.
When the urge first overtook Aurora, she wasn't even considering the dream as the reason that she was heading where she was heading. Instead, she thought that perhaps she would find clues on how to handle the dire situation from past leaders who saw the country through its struggles.
As she browsed past the powerful visages of former rulers of Romania, she traced her fingers subconsciously over her own face, gently running them along her high cheekbone down to her chin. Was she like these men, or was she the odd one out? When other rulers and diplomats walked down this hall, would they stop at Aurora's bust and puzzle over her, wonder if she was included as a mistake, and move on? Or would the castle even still be standing after her reign.
"Madam," Dracule said, standing at the far end of the hallway, dusting off the bust of her late father.
Aurora jumped and went wide eyed for a moment. "Dracule! You nearly scared me to death!"
"I take it you forgot your promise to meet me here, then?" Dracule asked, glancing over at the queen. In that moment, memories of the dream rushed back to Aurora, and she just stared at him dumbstruck.
"You mean--from the dream?" Aurora asked.
"If you wish to call it that, yes," he replied flatly.
"Well, what else would it be called?" Aurora asked, confused. She never thought she'd be asking someone to explain her own dreams to her, but the circumstances were strange all around.
"I would call it a chat between the two of us," Dracule replied calmly.
"A chat? A chat while I was dreaming? A chat while I was asleep? I'm afraid I never thought of a chat being under those kinds of circumstances!" Aurora replied, frowning at her eccentric butler. "How could you refer to something like that so casually?"
"Perhaps your paranormal is just another man's normal, Madam," Dracule replied, and ceased dusting the bust of her late father.
Aurora didn't know whether or not Dracule was making fun of her, but honestly it seemed inconceivable that he wasn't. After all, he seemed to be implying that she was sheltered, when nothing could be further from the truth! Despite her being young, she had become as cultured as anyone could at her age. "I don't appreciate you condescending, Dracule," she said, a dangerous edge to her voice.
"Condescending? Madam, I apologize that you've mistaken my intentions. I'm not purposefully being condescending. I just want you to know that in my world, talking to someone in their dreams isn't so odd," he replied in a soft tone, humbling himself slightly so that Aurora's anger didn't increase.
"In your world? You mean to tell me that you think that talking to someone while they're asleep is completely normal to you?" Aurora asked, not exactly willing to accept that.