Whisper Privileges (46 page)

Was it so easy for Sam? Could she follow her
passion, the rest be damned? Clay skimmed a finger the length of
her arm. Waves of desire wound low in her belly.
Let the details
go
. But she was a detail woman! How exactly did one let go of
who they were? Details were her passion, her expertise. Nerves
scattered like pebbles on a shiny surface as she silently cried,
it’s what she did
!

“Besides. Q’s gonna need some moral
support.”

“Q?” Alarmed by the shift in tone, Sydney
raised her head and peered at him. Worry poured through her.
“What’s wrong?”

“Doctors want him to stay out of the
pool.”

“What? Why?” Her breath caught. “Did he have
another seizure?” She kicked herself for not asking sooner.

He rolled his head back and forth on the
pillow, his gaze mellow. “No, but they think he could. They think
this one was brought on by the stress of competition.”

“Oh no…”

“But Q’s made up his mind. He’s
swimming.”

“Can’t they give him something for the
seizures?”

“Medicine. But it will slow him down.”

I’m pretty fast. I count my strokes
.
She could see the pride in Q’s face as clear as if he were standing
in front of her. Slow him down? That was bad news. “But what can I
do?”

“Q looks up to you as an athlete. He’ll need
your advice.” He grinned. “I’ll need your body.”

She punched him lightly.

But rather than continue the tease, he grew
serious. “Because your heart’s inside.”

“Clay...”

“Will you come, Sydney?”

It was point blank. He was asking her to move
to South Carolina. “I don’t know...”

“Will you at least consider it?”

Consider it
? Struck by the realization
she had nothing holding her in Miami, she thought, what’s not to
consider? Hell, she had no job! Inundated with a slew of nervous
energy, she looked at him hard. At this rate, she’d better start
considering something. She took in the morning beard forming across
his jaw, the layers of blond tangled from their first night
together, the silky blue gaze as he waited for her reply. “Yes,”
she murmured. She brought hand to his necklace and fingered the
smooth, white beads. “Yes.” Excitement swelled. Gazing into
brilliant blue eyes, she wanted last night to be the first of many.
“I’ll consider it.”

Clay hugged her to him. “We’ll need a good
lawyer, too.”

She laughed. “Well as it stands, I just
happen to know one of those!”

“Good.” He smiled. “Q can’t live without
swimming and he can’t live without the Special Olympics.”

Sydney pondered the sentiment. The
organization meant a lot to the kids, she knew, but what she’d come
to learn is that it meant a lot to a whole lot of other people, as
well, herself included. Meeting the athletes over the last couple
of weeks, witnessing the outpouring of support from her community,
she knew these games cut a wide and deep swath. From Miami to
Anchorage, Shanghai to Rio, these events touched the hearts and
lives of many. They uplifted, they inspired, they proved the human
spirit to be a force unstoppable.

It was a debt of gratitude she felt herself.
Sure, she met Clay and Q as a result, but the kids showed her how
to live. Theirs was an example that shouted from the hilltops, “You
can do it! You can do it!”

It was a message she
wanted
to
believe. She didn’t want to be shackled by fear and doubt,
insecurity and jealousy. She didn’t want to be limited by others’
perceptions. She wanted to be free, to climb the highest mountain,
to swim the widest ocean.

Clay drew her hand from his necklace. “I
don’t want to live without you, Sydney. I want you to be with Q and
me.” He kissed her knuckles. Light and tender, there was love in
his touch; a love she wanted to explore. It was a love she needed
to follow, wherever it may lead.

Life was about living. It was about accepting
yourself as the glorious individual you were born to be, the person
you could strive to become. For the first time, Sydney believed she
could move beyond her past, the opinions of others, and define
herself as the woman she wanted to be.

Would she be beautiful
?
Would she
be successful
?

Sydney pulled Clay’s hand to her mouth and
pressed it to her lips.
She would be happy
. To hell with
what other people thought she should look like, she didn’t care.
And happy would look any damn well way
she
wanted it to
look.

Epilogue

Standing on the hot sands of Myrtle Beach, a
stiff breeze whipped at his back, the saltiness of which
intensified his desire for her. Clay watched as Sydney wound back
for the serve and crushed the ball over the net, clear to the back
corner. He smiled as it sailed completely out of reach of her
opponents. The whistle blew, sending adrenaline through his veins.
Damn, she was good. Clay cupped hands to mouth and shouted, “Way to
go, Syd!”

“Good job, Sydney!” Q yelled.

Clay cast a sideways glance to his son and
affection swelled in his chest. The sight of Q engaged and cheering
Sydney on warmed his heart. He was emerging from his shell, opening
up space that could allow her in. She was coming to mean a lot to
him, to his son, and Clay couldn’t be happier.

The crowd hushed again, pulling his attention
back to Sydney. Holding the ball before her, a wall of spectators
hanging on her every move, she stared across the court in a
penetrating line of concentration. The intensity was so thick he
could feel it building between them. Drawing a hand back, she
thrust forward and
bam—
over the net and to the sand.
Make
that another score toward the win
, he thought, spectators
shouting the same sentiment. Clay shook his head and looked at the
other women. They were minor league next to Sydney and her partner,
two of South Carolina's up and coming finest. Currently the two
held rank as tournament semi-finalists, but were quickly on their
way to being crowned victors for the three day event. He chuckled.
An event improved by beautiful weather and packed with curious
beachgoers, mostly male. But of course he understood the allure.
These women were hot—
his in particular
.

As if sensing his thoughts, Sydney turned to
him and smiled. Beneath the sun her tanned skin glowed, sweat
glistening from her limbs presently pumped with exertion. He
smiled, struck by the sudden urge to get his hands on her. She
returned a brief nod, swung her arm back and pummeled the ball over
the net. The opposing team managed to touch this one, but the ball
bounced out of bounds. At the whistle, teams changed sides, Sydney
jogging perilously close to him. She shot a thumbs-up to Q and Clay
grunted under his breath. If they weren’t standing in the middle of
a tournament, he’d smack that bottom of hers and follow it with a
good squeeze. Visions of her naked body from the night before
flooded into his mind. Strong, lean, the woman was a machine. Given
the right handling, he’d discovered she could be a tigress, too.
Exciting, but lethal in her touch. Oh, the things he wanted to do
to her and over and over again—but there’d be plenty enough time
for that later. Right now they had a game to win.

Q looked up at his dad with unrestrained
admiration. “Sydney is awesome.”

Clay patted his son on the back, his eyes
glued to her butt as she passed.
Yes she is
.

Sydney shook her head and he laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Q asked.

“Nothing,” Clay replied quietly, ignoring the
layer of perspiration building beneath his T-shirt. “Nothing at
all.” Moving his hand to his son’s shoulder, the humidity heavy in
the air despite sweeps of easterly winds, he decided to add, “I’m
just happy.”

Q nodded and Clay allowed his hand to fall.
But happy was an understatement. Clay felt like his whole world was
complete. In the beginning, it had been dicey. Sydney moved to
South Carolina but refused to interview with the local Special
Olympics organization. He pushed, but she was adamant. Clay
understood her hesitation. She was probably afraid to tie herself
to him hook, line and sinker—but mostly the latter. She was afraid
of sinking. Without maintaining her float, that safety device
called independence, Sydney feared she’d drown. This was his
territory, not hers. Whatever he claimed to the contrary, he had
learned those lines ran long and wide for her.

Settling her feet into the sand, he watched
again as she went through her ritual of deep inhalation in
preparation for the serve. A year into their relationship, he was
learning a lot of her rituals and habits, her mindset and emotion.
And while he didn’t believe an escape route was necessary, she did.
For some reason, Sydney seemed reluctant to commit, to settle down.
Clay attributed it to the fact that she barely spoke with her
parents. They rarely called her and she rarely called them. The
animosity was near palpable between them,
but did she think all
families were like hers
? Sure he and Trish were divorced and he
harbored no kind feelings for the woman. It was something he felt
deep shame over, mostly with regard to his son. But the divorce had
not been his doing and he would not buy into the assumption that
the same fate would befall him and Sydney.

She was wholly different than Trish and
grades above in both style and temperament. He and Sydney were
meant for each other and in time, he’d convince her of the same.
The first step had been settling her back into her comfort zone.
Once she secured employment with a local event planning outfit in
Charleston, a group that specialized in corporate meetings, the
next quest had been finding a beach volleyball association for her
to join.

Spiking a punishing return, Sydney slapped
palms high in the air with her teammate and Clay smiled. This
tournament had been a stroke of genius on his part, her talent
guaranteeing her spot easily which left only the matter of
them
to settle. His smile deepened. No problem. He crossed
arms over chest as he watched her dig in, center court. He had more
than a few ideas tucked away for
that
little challenge.

# # #

Author’s Note

As an author, I can tell you that inspiration
strikes in many ways. For me, themes occur without warning,
followed by characters and story details—although sometimes
characters introduce themselves first, as in the case of Samantha
Rawlings. That woman was busting from my imagination, demanding a
story be written for her!

I obliged. I'm just that kind of writer. But
this story is special. It was inspired by a young boy I know by the
name of Eric, a boy who is amazing—in so many ways. Despite being
born with mental disabilities, he’s smart, friendly and always
handy with a smile in greeting. Over the years, I've watched him
grow and develop alongside my son, and have been thoroughly
impressed with his progress. And it occurred to me, how many people
have had the opportunity to know and love kids like Eric? To
understand what they're capable of and recognize their true
potential?

I've often wondered if special needs children
weren't a gift from God, because from what I've seen, these kids
teach their parents a whole new layer of love, a love that's
giving, unselfish, a love that’s willing to do whatever it takes
and will never leave, no matter how tough it gets. Granted I think
most parents feel this way about their children. I know I do, but I
don't kid myself for one minute—special needs means exactly
that—special needs, extra attention, double the time, double the
duty.

Yet as these children grow and mature, where
they go in life is determined by the same thing as all of us:
dreams, passion, hard work and dedication. If you’ve ever been to a
Special Olympics event, you’ll know what I mean. These kids train
their hearts out for these games and the competition is fierce. But
it's also friendly, inclusive. Attitudes are encouraging and
spirited, not aggressive and cutthroat. They’re out to win, yes,
but in the end, it's clear that they all feel like winners because
they understand something that many of us have forgotten.
Ultimately true competition isn’t about winning or losing, it's
about how you play the game.
Let me win.
But if I cannot
win, let me be brave in the attempt
.

I, for one, am thankful for the reminder.

About the Author

Dianne Venetta lives in Central Florida with
her husband, two children and part-time Yellow Lab Cody-boy! An
avid gardener, she spends her spare time growing organic
vegetables, surprised by what she finds there every day. Who knew
there were so many amazing similarities between men and plants?
Women, life and love and her discoveries provide for never-ending
fun on her blog: BloominThyme.com.

You can also find her on twitter
@DianneVenetta and facebook.com/DianneVenetta. Plus, learn how you
can become a member of her street team, Bloomin’ Warriors where
you’ll be eligible for special discounts, advance excerpts, author
swag and unique gift items throughout the year. Full details are
available on her website, www.DianneVenetta.com.

Look for Dianne Venetta’s next novel:

CONDEMN ME NOT

What no mother wants to say,

and every mother yearns to hear.

Coming Fall/Winter 2012