Home of the White Dolphin - Segment 31

Chapter 151

January 30, 2009 – At the mansion in Walker’s apartment

Exactly two hours later, there was a loud knock on the front door. Muffled voices carried into the living room where Walker was watching the morning news on television. “Hold on,” he yelled, getting up and going down the hallway toward the door.

No sooner had he opened the door than the two children ran inside. “Mr., I mean, Walker, have you seen my room yet?” This came from seven-year-old Sue Beth, looking up at him with a big smile. “Edith let me decorate it all by myself. Isn’t it pretty?”

Meanwhile Joshua, who recently turned nine, ran past both of them. Without even stopping to say hello, he headed through the new wing’s doorway. Walker grinned at his adopted son’s enthusiasm. When the two children first came to the mansion, shortly after their mother’s murder in San Francisco, Walker worried about Joshua’s mental state. Back then, the boy was a fearful child, overly protective of his younger sister, and frightened of most adults.

“Hey, Joshua, hold up.” Walker called out and saw the boy come to a sudden stop. “What’s your hurry?”

Joshua waited until Walker and Sue Beth came into the hallway, before answering. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see my room again. Did you see it yet?”

“Sam and I checked the place out yesterday when we first got back.” Walker gave the boy a gentle shove to get him moving again. It saddened Walker to see Joshua still reverted, at times, to the solemn boy he had been two years ago.

The three of them explored the five rooms, including the large one at the end of the wide hallway. When inside the unfurnished room, Sue Beth piped up, “Has Samantha told you what she wants here yet?” The little girl whirled around and around in the empty area. “Do you think she’ll let me help her?”

Walker couldn’t help laughing at her excitement. “I’m sure Sam will want your help. Why don’t you go see if she’s ready to join us?”

* * *

Earlier, Walker slowly opened his sleepy eyes and immediately glanced at Samantha. He saw her stretched out on her back, sound asleep after yet another of their delightful and prolonged sexual tussles. Once again, Walker said a silent prayer that he could always keep her safe and happy. He leaned over and pushed her long hair to one side, before gently kissing the side of her neck.

“Wumfh, gaway,” Samantha, definitely not a morning person, mumbled. With her eyes still closed, she batted at a grinning Walker as she would an irritating fly.

Unlike his new wife, Walker usually woke cheerful and ready for the new day’s challenges. Getting Samantha up and showered before the children arrived, though, might prove a bigger challenge than even he could manage. “Sweetheart,” Walker whispered into her ear, “it’s time to get going. The sun is up, the birds are singing, and do you really want our kids to see you all naked and…”

Walker stopped talking, noticing Samantha had fallen back to sleep again. He looked over at the small clock on the bedside table and saw almost an hour and a half had passed since Jack’s phone call. More than enough time, went through his mind. Trying this time not to wake her, Walker slid his arms under Samantha and lifted her carefully off the bed.

He slowly stood with Samantha still asleep and cradled against his shoulder. Walker headed for the bathroom, while thinking, Sam has no idea how effortlessly sexy she is, even while asleep. A powerful wave of love rushed over him. This woman is my wife, all mine. He slowed down to savor the feeling of her breast’s silky skin against his naked chest.

“Walker,” a sleepy voice asked, “where are you taking me?”

Chapter 152

January 30, 2009 – At the mansion in Walker’s apartment

“Hush, go back to sleep.” By now, Walker was in the bathroom and almost to the large shower area. “I’m going to get you clean and smelling good for the kids.” He managed to open the shower stall’s door without dropping Samantha, used his hip to close it behind them, and leaned her upright against the glass wall.

Without opening her eyes, Samantha grumpily said, “I smell good.” She began sliding down to the floor, but Walker quickly caught her and held her in place with his body. Reaching behind him, he turned on the shower faucet.

Warm water streamed out over them, and Samantha finally came fully awake. “What do you mean, get me clean and smelling good?” She pushed Walker away to stare up into his grinning face. “What’s wrong with the way I smell?”

“Absolutely nothing, as far as I’m concerned.” Walker chuckled at the annoyed look on her face. “Sam, you have my smell all over you. Do you want the kids to know we had sweaty sex all night?” Seeing her thinking this over, Walker next reached for the bottle containing Samantha’s favorite body wash. After he opened the top and poured a good amount into the palm of his hand, the fragrance of roses filled the stall.

“Oh, that feels so good.” Samantha leaned back against the glass to allow Walker easier access to her wet body. “Don’t stop. Yes, um, more.” When he began using his fingers to spread the thick cream over her breasts, she arched her back to push herself further into his large hands.

“You like that?” Walker stepped closer to her. “How about this?” His hands, still covered by the soapy lotion, slid around her waist and moved down to her lower back. He bent down and cupped his hands under the round cheeks of her ass, pulling her up off the stall’s floor. “That’s it,” when Samantha put her arms around his neck. “I won’t drop you.”

Walker could feel his penis growing hard and struggled to slow down. “Sam, hold on tight, so I can put your legs around my waist. Oh, that’s perfect, sweetheart.” With her legs tight around him, Samantha let go of Walker’s neck. She reached up behind her to take hold of the metal rim at the shoulder-high shower door.

“Hurry, take me now.” Samantha moved her hips restlessly when she felt Walker’s fingers rubbing between her bent legs.

“Oh, jeez, you feel so good.” Walker rubbed harder, his middle finger sliding inside her now and then. “You want me? Tell me.” Not waiting for her to answer, Walker guided his heavy arousal into her and put his hands back underneath her ass. In this position, he listened to Samantha’s soft moans turn into cries of sexual pleasure the faster and deeper he went.

The rhythmic sound of her body slamming against the glass wall grew louder. Walker fought for control over his own body; he wanted Samantha to experience an orgasm before he came. His breathing became harsh, and he knew he had only seconds. “Damn, oh yes, oh yes.” Walker felt Samantha’s body convulsing around his penis. With a loud yell of relief, he climaxed along with her.

* * *

Now, the memory of that shower bringing a smile to his face, Walker watched Sue Beth run back into his apartment. A few minutes later, she returned, skipping beside Samantha and talking nonstop.

Chapter 153

April 27, 1886 –At the Boston home of Helen Moreau

Over seven months had passed since Helen insisted on marrying Rick Moreau. On this muggy Boston afternoon, she was alone in the dingy Templeton home. Rick, as usual, disappeared after breakfast, leaving his pregnant wife to fret and fume about his increasing negligence.

On the dining room table were the two books Mr. Herrmann’s law clerk dropped off the day before. Blythe, before leaving for London, had given them to the lawyer, asking him to deliver them to Helen. Mr. Herrmann, rather forgetful as he got older, only remembered the books months later.

“Well, I might as well see what’s in them.” Helen picked up the diary she often saw her mother writing in. The second book, a well-worn ship’s log, looked less interesting to her. She began reading and quickly realized her grandmother, Elizabeth Templeton, wrote the first entry dated November 11, 1845.

For the next hour, Helen read of the stormy relationship between her grandparents. I wish I’d met you two. This regretful thought went through Helen’s mind often while reading Elizabeth’s entries. She laughed at the comments about young Robbie, seeing her father in a different light from the serious man he’d become. Reading of Mitchell’s rape of Elizabeth on their return trip to London, Helen wavered between shock over the violence hinted at and curiosity at exactly what happened. Elizabeth failed to write down explicit details, and Helen was familiar only with Rick’s uninspired missionary position. It was from Blythe’s copious entries that Helen learned about her grandparents’ tragic deaths and what little she knew about the Edgeworth branch of their family.

The bright afternoon sunshine coming in through the west window of the room returned Helen to the present. Rick was late returning from the mill, and Helen began to worry. He often stayed away overnight or days at a time, always telling her he had to travel on business. This morning, he never mentioned a trip, and Helen decided her first visit to his mill was overdue. Since loaning him the money to keep the bank from foreclosing on it, Helen often asked Rick to show her around the building, but he always found an excuse to not take her there.

“Well, my dear husband,” Helen said to the empty room, “no more excuses.” She maneuvered her cumbersome body off the sofa and made her way outside. The street in front of the Templeton home teemed with private carriages and the occasional horse-drawn hack. After flagging down one of these, Helen climbed inside after giving the driver directions to the mill.

Thirty minutes later, the hack pulled up in front of a grimy, cinder block building. “Please wait,” Helen asked the elderly driver after he helped her out of the carriage. “I shouldn’t be too long.” After seeing him nod, she slowly walked inside the building.

Immediately, the noise of the machines had her regretting this trip. About to leave without talking to her husband, Helen felt a hand on her shoulder. Whirling around, she came face-to-face with a bewhiskered and scowling man.

“Who the hell are you?” This he said in a loud tone of voice that demanded an answer.

“I’m here to see Rick, I mean Mr. Moreau.” Helen had to shout to be heard.

“He ain’t here. The boss left hours ago ‘cause his wife’s ready to pop out another one.”

Helen shook her head. “No, this is my first one, and I’m not due for a couple months.”

The coarse man sneered, while looking at her protruding belly. “Lady, I don’t know who you are, but you ain’t his wife. She’s the daughter of the high mucky-muck owner of this place.”

“Rick’s married already?” Helen whispered this, but the man heard her anyway.

“He better be ‘cause his wife’s at Boston General Hospital about to push out their fourth kid.” With that, the man gave Helen’s heavy body one last contemptuous look and left her standing by the building’s front door.

In shock, Helen returned to the hired carriage where the driver was waiting. She softly gave directions to the driver. “Please, take me to Boston General Hospital.” Climbing inside, she gave way to the tears caused by Rick’s betrayal. When the carriage pulled up in front of the large hospital, though, Helen got out, composed and dry-eyed. As before, she politely asked the driver to wait for her.

Fifteen minutes later, she came out of the hospital and hurried toward the carriage. Unable to hold back the return of her tears, she managed to tell the driver, “Please, take me back home,” and gave him, between sobs, the address.

Chapter 154

April 28, 1886 –At the Boston home of Helen Moreau

Helen wasn’t surprised when Rick stayed away from the Templeton house. After she got home the previous afternoon, she went through the rooms to find anything belonging to him. Once the box she threw his clothes and other personal items into threatened to overflow, she put it outside on the sidewalk. By the next morning, it had disappeared. Helen didn’t care if Rick returned and found the box, or if some homeless person took it away.

A loud knock on the front door startled Helen early the next morning. She headed for the door, ready to yell at Rick as she had done at the hospital. Instead, she opened the door to a stranger.

“M’am,” the man said in a deep baritone, “is it true? You’re having Rick’s child?” He saw her protruding belly and smiled. “Yes, I see you are.” Without waiting for an invitation, he walked past Helen into the house.

Too surprised at his actions to object, Helen stood there before she remembered to close the front door. By the time she got her wits back, the man was in the living room and sitting on the sofa waiting for her.

“Please, Helen, come sit down” He patted the empty sofa cushion, but Helen moved to stand behind a chair instead. The man shrugged. “I understand. Let me introduce myself before I tell you why I’m here. I’m Rick’s father, and my name is Gawain Moreau.” A grimace crossed his face when he said this. “Mama read too much and named me after one of King Arthur’s knights. You may call me Wayne, though.”

“I’ll call you a trespasser if you don’t tell me why you forced your way into my home.” While saying this, Helen took the opportunity to look at the man. She saw the resemblance to Rick in both his height and solid build. Wayne’s dark brown hair showed streaks of gray, but the gentleness in his eyes was something Rick never had shown her.

Wayne, in turn, spent time observing the young woman hiding behind the chair. The day before, he was in the hospital’s maternity waiting room with his son. After catching a quick glimpse of Helen leaving with tears flowing down her face, he dragged the whole shameful story out of Rick.

Now, he watched Helen, wanting to know more about the woman his son seduced. Despite her advanced pregnancy, Wayne understood what Rick found attractive about her. He shook his head, disgusted with his son’s behavior. He knew he had the responsibility, once again, of fixing Rick’s mistake.

Wayne leaned forward before saying, “I want to apologize for what my son did to you. He told me yesterday about taking money from you to keep his mill going, and I’ve already contacted your lawyer about this.”

“Money? You think I care about the damn money?” Helen went to stand in front of Wayne, angry enough to leave the safety of the chair. “That misbegotten bastard better never show his face around here again. I can take care of myself and my child when it comes.”

Wayne stood, pleased with the spirit the young woman showed him. “He won’t be bothering you, but as your child’s grandfather, I feel I owe, I mean I want to be there for you.” He hesitated. “That is, if you allow it.”

Helen felt her anger at Wayne Moreau fading away. There was something about him that reminded her of her own father, although Wayne was much younger than Robbie. When he held out his arms, she accepted the comfort he was offering. She held onto him, sobbing as she told him how much she missed her family and how scared she was at being alone in this strange land.

“You’re not alone any more, Helen.” Wayne waited until she stopped crying before saying this. “I’ll be here for you whenever you need me. You may not be my daughter-in-law, but you are about to have my grandchild.”

* * *

For the next couple months, Wayne lived up to his promise and visited Helen almost every day. As her belly swelled, making walking more difficult, Helen became even more dependent on him. At his urging, she hired an elderly woman, Lisa Winters, to stay with her during the last two months of her pregnancy.

Lisa and Wayne were with Helen during her daughter’s unexpected arrival on a sunny June afternoon. There had been no time to get to the hospital since Cynthia Moreau, all 8 pounds 2 ounces of her, came before Helen realized the sharp pains in her back meant she was in labor.

Chapter 155

July 28, 1887 –At the Boston home of Helen Moreau

Soon after Cynthia’s first birthday, Helen learned the truth behind the lies Rick told her on board the White Dolphin.

Wayne laughed when Helen asked about his wife, the Spanish woman who was Rick’s mother. The two adults were sitting together on the living room sofa, sharing a pot of tea. Helen had just returned from Cynthia’s bedroom after putting the sleeping baby in her crib.

“You mean Elena? She returned to her family in Spain only two months after giving birth to our son.” Without thinking, Wayne took Helen’s hand in his. “I should never have forced her to come here. She hated Boston, and I divorced her after only a year of marriage. I often wonder if I ever truly loved her.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Helen looked down at their hands. This was the first time Wayne had touched her, other than that first day he held her in his arms to comfort her. She no longer compared him to Robbie or thought of him as Cynthia’s grandfather.

“That’s all right. It was a long time ago.” Wayne suddenly realized Helen was looking at their hands and not pulling hers away. “Helen, I think you know how much I care for you.” He slowly brought her hand up to his mouth. “You can tell me to stop any time.”

“Tell you to stop?” repeated Helen, unsure of what Wayne wanted from her. It became clearer when he pressed his lips to her hand. “Oh, should you? I mean, what?” She lost her train of thought when Wayne’s lips moved from her hand to her mouth. Helen didn’t resist when he lifted her onto his lap.

Wayne forced her mouth open and swept his tongue inside. While ravishing her mouth, Wayne’s hands were busy attacking the buttons on the front of her dress. “No, don’t move. It’s going to be all right.” He hurried to finish undoing the buttons, after which he slid his hand into the opened bodice. “That’s it. Hold still. I just want to touch you, that’s all.”

Wayne pushed her cotton chemise down on one side and ran his thumb over the soft nipple of her breast. “Helen, you like this, don’t you?” he whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He rubbed harder when he felt her moving, trying to get off his lap. “No, I said be still. I know you don’t want me to stop.” He took her breast into his hand and gently dug his fingers into the tender flesh.

Helen buried her face in his neck, ashamed at how his probing fingers on her breast made her feel. When Wayne finally removed his hand, she experienced a loss she never had with Rick. She wanted to protest when he moved her off his lap, but remained silent while he stretched her body out on the sofa. Helen didn’t move when Wayne sat on the edge of the sofa to remove her shoes and pull down her knee-high stockings.

“Sweetness, you have beautiful feet.” Wayne smiled at the surprise on Helen’s face when he said this. “Shall I tell you what else I find beautiful?” He took the hem of her long dress in both hands and began pushing the material up her legs. “Yes, just as I thought. You have beautiful ankles and such nice knees.” The dress went up a bit higher while he kept up his running inventory of her body.

“Oh, what do we have here?” Wayne reached up under the dress to her waist and found the drawstring to her bloomers. Sight unseen, he managed to untie the undergarment and slowly pulled it down past her hips. He didn’t stop until the garment was off and thrown onto the carpet.

Helen couldn’t hold back a moan when he started stroking the soft skin of her inner thighs. “Wayne, we shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong.” She tried to sit up, but stopped when he used his hands to push her thighs apart. Her excitement at what he was doing overcame the last bit of residual shame she felt.

Wayne sensed her surrender the second it happened. “That’s my sweet girl. Now you’re going to see what a real man could do.” His eyes never leaving hers, he stood and opened the front of his trousers.

Continued in next segment

Home of the White Dolphin - Segment 32  (GC) Chapters 156 thru 160 #2091673 by J. A. Buxton