Finding Home

Chapter Fourteen

         Deb woke up to moonlight on her face.  The simple pleasure of it made her smile despite the painful crick in her neck.
         Deb pulled the blanket off of her, and then simply stared.  Kyle had covered her up and left her to sleep.  Her lips curved.
         Sitting up on the couch, Deb shivered slightly as the cool breeze floated in through the windows and danced across her arms.  As the scent of damp earth washed over her, she noticed the quiet drone of noise.  She supposed it was some kind of bug or frog, but as a city girl was completely out of her element in identifying the wild noise.
         Both the scent of the air and the steady hum of noise drew her to the large bay window.  She stared up at the moon; it’s silvery light casting a misty, magical pall over the dark forest outside.  She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything as beautiful as the bright, full moon surrounded by a mass of bright stars, brighter than she’d ever seen in her life.
         The newness and beauty of it was breathtaking and couldn’t fight the inexplicable need to feel the night air on her skin.  Quietly, Deb tiptoed over to the patio door.  Flinching as she unlocked the lock and the noise echoed across the dark cottage, Deb stepped out onto the postage-stamp patio.
         The night was cool, but comfortably so.  The steady insect noise and creaks of the forest was a beautiful buzz humming over her like a calming lullaby.  She inhaled the scent of a spring night—damp earth, grass, and just a hint of something floral.  Never had she experienced something so simple and so moving.
         “Spring Peepers.”
         The intrusion should have made her jump or scream or startled her in some way, but somehow she had known Kyle was there.
         “What’s that?”
         “Frogs, basically.”
         “Frogs.”  Deb chuckled.  “I like it.”
         He stepped onto the porch next to her; closing the door she had left cracked open.  “Me too.  It’s all I need to know it’s spring… and that I’m home.”
         “Did I wake you?”
         “Bit of a light sleeper, heard the door creak.  Figured you were trying to sneak out, so I came down to stop you.”
         Deb spared him a look.    He was wearing a baggy t-shirt and boxers, his hair rumpled with sleep.  He looked part cute, part more appealing than she wanted to admit.  Deb quickly averted her gaze.
         “If the moon hadn’t distracted me,” she replied, looking up at the sky.  “I probably would have been leaving.”
         “Full tonight,” he noted.  “Chilly.”
         She wrapped her arms around herself, not out of cold, but out of wonder—of holding onto the moon.
         “So, if you’re not trying to sneak out, what were you doing?”
         “Just thinking.”
         “About what?”
         Deb looked up at the amazing parade of stars, and smiled ruefully.  “Risks.”
         At his questioning look, she found herself chuckle.  “Risks.  My life.  Everything that has led me to where I am.”
         “Leave it to the moon to bring all those things up.”
         Deb smiled; perhaps it was the moon’s influence.  And if tomorrow she regretted the things she was dying to say, dying to feel, she would blame it on the moon.
         “Do you ever look out here, at the stars and the dark and realize something that should have been right in front of your face all along?”
         He followed her gaze up the dazzling blanket of sky.  “Yes.”
         It was a simple reply and one she found comforting.  “I lived the first seven years of my life in this very basic place.  I had to learn to take care of myself.  It was survival—only I didn’t know it, I just figured that was how it was.”  Deb hugged her arms around herself, as much as to hold in her feelings as to warm the slight chill in her body.
         “When the Stone’s came along… all smiles and warmth and sleek cars and expensive clothes and big words and promises, I didn’t know what to think.  I adapted because I was used to adapting, I did what they wanted because that’s what I had done to survive.”
         Kyle’s hand rested easily on her shoulder, and Deborah felt herself smiling.  “I say it and it sounds foolish, but it’s how I feel.”
         “It isn’t foolish, couldn’t possibly be.”
         Shaking her head, Deborah continued.  Each word said lifted a wait, crumbled a wall, it was a freeing feeling and she relished it by choosing her words carefully.  “I did what they wanted every moment.  But, I loved them.  It became as much love as survival.  I studied law because my father wanted it.  But, more than that—I knew I’d have a job if I studied law and even more than that, I knew I’d have a safety net.  If I screwed up, Daddy would be there to fix it.”
         Her pace quickened as the thrill of release took over.  “Risk became the equivalent of failure in my mind—the equivalent of no control… something I’d executed perfectly for as long as I can remember.  You can’t control a risk.  So, I became a lawyer, I dated men I could keep at arms length.  I did everything with the purpose of reducing the risks I would have to take to get through the day.”
         “Deb, you came here to find Roger.  You decided to move here, start your own business.  Risks so many people would never take.”
         Deborah laughed, but it wasn’t humor she felt, but something edging towards disgust.  “Even those things weren’t risks, Kyle.  Don’t you see?  Did it matter if I found Roger?  No, I’d known what my mother was and if he was like her I could lock it away and go back to the Stones and be done with it.  If her was something better, I could get to know him on my terms—and I’d never lose what I’d gained—my real Mom and Dad.”
         The image she had held of Roger was so clear in her mind; she had to blink back the tears.  “And moving here?  When I’m suddenly a member of the Kapshaws.  A family loved and respected in this town.  A family who takes any stray in and makes it their own.  What risk was I taking?  I knew Mom and Dad would support me; they’ve never done anything but.  I missed them, yes.  But where’s the risk?”
         “Deb, you’ve started your own law firm, surely-”
         “No.  A risk means putting something on the line.  You’re taking a chance to lose.  If the firm goes under I lost some money.  So what?  Money isn’t an issue for me.  I have a trust fund for Heaven’s sake.  It isn’t a risk… it’s maybe a freedom, but not a risk.”
         Her voice became quiet, and it irritated her that it wavered.  “I’ve lost so much in my life, I grew up minimizing loss and heartache as much as possible.  I’ve avoided taking risks because I thought it made life livable.  But, God, I’ve done myself a disservice, because I’ve never risked big so I’ve never won big.”
         He placed his other hand on her other shoulder and turned her to face him.  She looked up at his face, so idiotically handsome with his sleep-rumpled hair, and her decision was made.
         Before he could speak, she waved him off.  “I want to take a risk, Kyle.”  Trying not to shake, she wound her arms around his waist.  “I want to put something on the line and not know if I’ll win or lose.”
         “Deb, I-”
         She cut him off with a kiss, and the power of making the first move was dizzying.  He ran his hands through her hair as their lips met and tongues explored.  Deb felt her heart flutter with such rapid wings she was afraid it would burst.  A need so shocking, so new erupted inside her and she pressed her body against his.
         “Kyle.”  She tried to keep the breathlessness, the desperate need and even more important the nerves out of her voice.  “Let’s take a risk.  Make love with me.”
         In another situation she might have laughed at the choking sound he made and the way his eyes seemed to goggle, but her pulse was hammering in her head so the laugh didn’t come.  But she managed to smile.  “Upstairs,” she added, pulling on his hand.
         He followed her inside, but without a word, pressed her back against the door, crushing his lips to hers with a fierceness she hadn’t expected.
         His hands roamed her body, and without realizing it, her hands were doing the same to his—running up his arms, framing his face, feeling the ripple of muscles in his chest.
         His teeth scraped her bottom lip and she couldn’t hold back the moan.  His lips moved up her jaw line, then down across her neck and his hands teased delightfully at her sides.  When the needs was too strong, she brought his lips back to hers, meeting with a fierce jolt.
         His hands slid up her shirt, slowly and patiently skimming her stomach, her sides until he pulled the shirt over her head.
         He broke the kiss, and brushed a gentle kiss across her now bare shoulder.  The change from hurried to gentle was almost painfully wonderful.
         “Kyle,” she murmured, as his hands ran up her arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps.
         “Upstairs,” he muttered.  “Right.”  He took her hand in his, taking a moment to link their hands. 
         She hesitated momentarily, her usual caution slipping in at the pause.
         “If you’re sure?”
         The question was all she needed to be sure.  She wanted to nod, to burry her head in his shoulder, but she squared her shoulders and found her voice.  “I’m sure.”  She smiled, squeezing his hand and walking with him toward the stairs.