Seven Years Since the Motel

While revising chapters one and two, I found a mistake. If you read an earlier version, please note that in chapter one Alessandro should have thought that Maisie lived in Boston.

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Alessandro's heart hammered in his chest as he walked towards the Barnes' kitchen. Over the past couple of hours, he'd run six miles, collided with the woman who'd haunted his dreams for months, spat cruelties at her, apologized, and proposed a truce. Well, he supposed it would closer to the truth to say that he proposed a truce, and then licked and nibbled at her fingers as he ate a strawberry out of her hand. He still had no idea what had possessed him to do that, and in all likelihood his racing heart had more to do with the latter event than any of the former.

He turned to face the strawberry field, and grinned.

"Coming, Maisie?"

Maisie stood next to the last plant, her mouth agape as she gazed after her mother's retreating back. She remained still for so long that Alessandro wondered if she was going to refuse to come to the kitchen for brunch. An image of her standing outside of the kitchen, arms akimbo as she tapped her foot waiting for him to leave, flashed through his mind.

Not that he would blame her if she chose to stay outside. He'd been awful to her.

He had been surprised to see her in the field. She had been correct in her rebuttal, of course; he shouldn't have been surprised at all. She was home for a visit during strawberry season, and it had always been her job to pick in the mornings. Nonetheless, he had been shocked to see her standing there, hands on her narrow hips as she surveyed the field in the morning's sunshine.

He cringed as he remembered telling her that he wished that night had never happened. What a stupid thing to say! That night had been great—amazing, even. Maisie hadn't had a clue what to do; looking back, he wasn't sure how great of a lover he had been. They had both been fumbling nineteen-year-olds, yet it had been one of the most incredible nights of his life.

He had tried to be cordial to her this morning, even friendly, but then she had goaded him. She'd thrown his mind off balance, and he'd remembered only at that moment—when she'd opened that damn ripe-raspberry mouth of hers—that the same mouth had featured in yet another erotic dream of his the night before.

It had thrown him into a state of lust and confusion. Not a good combination, in retrospect.

Without warning, Maisie snapped her mouth shut and approached him. She stopped several inches away and stared up at him, searching his eyes with her own. He stared down at her, not sure what she was looking for. He was relieved when a lazy, teasing smile broke across her face.

"Come on, golden boy. Mom's been talking about you coming back for weeks. She wants to see you at breakfast far more than she wants to see me, I'm sure."

He fell into step beside her as they walked to the kitchen, not talking but in a companionable silence. Maisie breezed into the kitchen, but he stopped at the doorway.

The small kitchen was exactly as he remembered it. The main farmhouse was over two hundred years old, but the current kitchen was a 1970's addition. A quick glance confirmed that the room hadn't been updated since; yellow-gold laminate countertops, patterned green linoleum, and dark, country-style wooden cabinets dominated the sunny room. Even Mrs. Barnes stood in her usual position in front of the old farmhouse sink, the only item kept from the original kitchen.

Alessandro watched as Maisie washed her hands, helped herself to a cup of coffee and a slice of quiche, and then slid across the horseshoe-shaped bench that surrounded the table and settled into her traditional position in the corner. He expected her to begin eating, but she didn't; instead, she rubbed her eyes and forehead with her hands, as if she were trying to relieve a headache.

Now that she wasn't looking at him, he took the time to scrutinize her appearance. Her face was a brilliant shade of red, though he didn't know whether the color was a result of the sun, exertion, or annoyance with him. The previous day's mascara was smudged around her eyes, and one particularly long streak of black reached halfway from her left eye to her ear. Streaks of strawberry juice stained her hands, arms and the ratty old tank top she wore, and he could see some dirt and a few streaks of green from the plants on her forearms. Tendrils of knotted hair clung to her face with sweat, and her loose ponytail looked slightly off center. She even had a piece of plant stem above an ear.

She looked like hell. He fought to suppress a laugh as Maisie looked up at him and glared across her coffee, as if she'd read his mind. He felt a strange urge to go to her side and wrap his arms around her. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or commiserate with her, but he knew he wanted to be close to her. She was rumpled, but cute; beautiful, even.

Instead he turned to Mrs. Barnes, who beamed at him as she held out a cup of coffee and a plate of food.

"Help yourself, dear. I know it isn't much, especially compared to the food I'm sure you're used to eating, but sit down." She flapped a hand in the direction of the booth, and waited until Alessandro took a seat across from Maisie before continuing. "I'll strain my neck if I have to keep looking up at you. I can't believe how much you've grown since you were a boy! To think, I can still remember changing your diapers and giving you baths when you were a toddler. I used to put you and Maisie in the same bath, and the two of you would splash and splash as you wrestled for that squeaky rubber duck. And just look at you now! Maisie, can you believe how big he's gotten?"

Maisie clanked her mug onto the table as her mother finished speaking, sloshing coffee over the sides.

The expression on Maisie's face was priceless; she looked like she'd sipped sour milk. Her blue-green eyes were wide and her face had somehow attained an even brighter shade of red than it had earlier. Until this morning, he'd forgotten how easily she blushed.

He knew exactly what Maisie was remembering. She had seen him naked quite a few years after their old battles over Mr. Ducky, sharing her shower in a cheap motel room. She knew exactly how big he could get.

Recovering, Maisie looked down at her plate and shoved a huge forkful of quiche into her mouth. She mumbled something unintelligible, but the response seemed to satisfy her mother.

"Oh and Alessandro dear, before I forget, I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed watching that last movie of yours."

It was Alessandro's turn to flush and drop his mug onto the table. His mouth went dry as he looked up at Mrs. Barnes.

"My last movie, Mrs. Barnes?"

"Oh, well, I suppose it isn't the most recent one. I meant the one your mother has a DVD of. I watched it at Christmas with her. It was such a lovely story."

"Oh, right. Well, thanks, Mrs. Barnes. I'm, uh, I'm glad you liked it. I liked that one, too."

Thank God she hadn't seen his last movie.

That

would have been embarrassing.

He'd been nude in his last movie. The director had assured him that the movie would include just a brief flash of flesh, and the cut of the movie Alessandro had seen had featured just that. Instead, the film included ten whole seconds of head to toe, full frontal nudity. The sex scene that followed bordered on pornographic. While he'd since switched agents and learned his lesson about working these sorts of things out in a contract ahead of time, he hadn't known about the extended shot until he received a phone call from an irate Carolina. She'd informed him that she and Gemma had gone to see the movie at a film festival, and that she had shrieked and spilled her popcorn all over the man in front of her in an effort to cover her eyes.

However, the movie had only been shown at a few festivals so far. It certainly hadn't come to Maine, so Mrs. Barnes couldn't have seen it. Even if she had, the extended scene wouldn't have been there; since the festivals, the scenes had been altered so that the movie could qualify for an "R" rating.

"But Maisie saw your last movie, didn't you, Maisie dear?" Mrs. Barnes continued, flashing her daughter a cheerful smile.

He raised an eyebrow as he turned towards Maisie. He wasn't embarrassed that she had seen the movie—after all, nothing in it would be new to her—but... no, Maisie couldn't have seen it either.

"Really, Maisie? I thought it was only shown in—"

"In Manhattan, yes, at Tribeca this past spring. There are trains from Brooklyn to Manhattan, you know." Maisie leaned over the table, placing both hands palm side down on the table as she spoke. Her earlier look of exhaustion was gone. She now had a pleading, almost desperate look in her eyes, and her smudged mascara made the look border on madness.

He stared at her, dumbfounded. What the hell was she talking about?

"Trains from Brooklyn to Manhattan?"

"Yes, trains. And as I've told you countless times over the past few years, Alessandro, you shouldn't be afraid of underground trains. They're really quite safe."

"Alessandro, dear? Are you afraid of subways? Oh, you poor thing. That must be terrible." Mrs. Barnes reached over and patted his hand, oblivious to both his confusion and Maisie's desperate attempts to send him a message.

"Uh, yeah." He watched as Maisie slumped back against the bench, her face relaxing. "Well, you know... um... some people are afraid of heights. I'm just afraid of... tunnels."

"Really? But you always loved tunnels as a boy. Don't you remember playing under the old abandoned railroad tunnel out on Palmer Street?"

Alessandro winced. He had forgotten.

"Yes, well." He glanced up at Maisie. He hoped she would give him some sort of help or hint, but instead he saw her shaking with silent laughter. What was going on?

He'd been in the similar situations countless times as a boy, covering for whatever trouble Maisie had caused. Instinct kicked in. Thinking fast, he turned back to her mother and produced what he hoped was a sincere smile. "Too much time filming in Russia last year. Those stations are really far below ground. They're kind of creepy, and I've been afraid of tunnels ever since"

"I see." Mrs. Barnes nodded, but she looked unconvinced. He had to move the conversation away from tunnels and trains, and fast.

"So Maisie." The laughter died from her face, and was replaced by a wary look. "You enjoyed the movie?"

Maisie pursed her lips together. "A bit."

"A bit, Maisie dear?" Mrs. Barnes gave her daughter a surprised look before leaning towards Alessandro and giving him a conspiratorial wink. "She's just being shy. Maisie liked it so much she saw it twice." At that, Mrs. Barnes walked over to the sink, calling over her shoulder, "I remember you telling me that you saw it once with Carolina and Gemma, and then didn't you go with another friend after that?"

Maisie didn't answer. Instead, she shoved another gigantic piece of quiche in her mouth.

She had seen it with Carolina and Gemma? Alessandro was puzzled. That was odd; they hadn't mentioned her being with them.

"Twice, Maisie?"

She spent a considerable amount of time chewing, and then downed a large gulp of coffee.

He kept his gaze on her, letting her know that her trick of stuffing her mouth with food wouldn't work on him. Her eyes darted around the kitchen, as if looking for something to distract them. When she failed, she turned to speak to him.

"Carolina ruined the first time by shrieking and spilling popcorn all over the guy in front of us when... well, um, anyways." She snapped her mouth shut, and cleared her throat. She had a stunned look on her face, as if she had just realized that she had said too much. "Like I was saying, I thought it might be nice to go back and watch it again, without any interruptions."

Alessandro raised his eyebrow further at this.

"You went back because you missed a few seconds? Or you went back to see a particular scene, uninterrupted?"

"Yes, I mean no! I mean, I went back to see the movie, the whole movie, uninterrupted. I've always liked the story, and after... you know, your sisters had a hard time sitting still."

"But twice, Maisie? There must have been something in particular that you liked in the film, something specific that made you go back and see it again."

She glared at him, but then a slow smile crept across her face. She snickered. "Something in particular, Alessandro? You mean, some sort of...

big

attraction? Or perhaps a spectacular performance?"

He raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Something like that, yes."

She screwed up her face as if in deep thought before turning her attention back to him and flashing a teasing grin. "No, I can't seem to remember anything big or spectacular, not with you anyway."

"Maisie!" Alessandro looked up to see Mrs. Barnes facing them, her hands dripping dishwater onto the floor. He had forgotten that there was a third person in the room, and from the chagrined look on Maisie's face, she had too. "That wasn't very polite, dear. Surely, you must have enjoyed the movie, or else you wouldn't have gone back to see it again."

Alessandro recovered first, and took advantage of Maisie's surprise. "Yes, I'm quite interested to know if you enjoyed a particular scene, or if something drew you back for more. I'm always interested in improving my, ah... technique."

She stared, and he began to wonder if she was going to give him a lame answer just to move the conversation along. He hoped not. He was enjoying their banter, and felt a strange sort of excitement rise within him when she lifted the left corner of her mouth into another smile. He'd forgotten how much fun it could be when Maisie teased him. He had loved it as a child, and this new, adult content teasing was even better.

"You know, you're right, Alessandro. There was one scene that I particularly enjoyed."

"Really? Which one? Not the one where I stood in the doorway, with one hand on the doorframe above me, while the other—"

"No, not that one."

"Or, perhaps the one right after that, where Lizaveta and I—"

"No, not that one either. I believe it was the closing scene, when you were confined in a padded cell at a mental institution with nothing but a deck of cards to entertain you. I found the scene quite satisfying. In fact," she paused, and he could tell that she was savoring her final words. She smiled at him as she spoke, "I think I received more satisfaction from that scene than I have from any other time with you."

He blinked, pondering her words, and then burst out laughing.

Just as he was about to reply, Maisie spoke.

"So, mom, Ben was in an awfully bad mood this morning. What's up with that?"

Her mother sighed and shook her head. "Poor Ben's worried about the farm, dear. It's a lot to handle, especially with... well, anyway. He's worried about the apple crop because of the late frost we had, the labor shortages are taking their toll on the strawberry fields, we've been drawing too much water from the well because we haven't had rain for over a week, and we just found out that two of the goats are sick. Oh, and the chickens are starting to revolt against the heat, much earlier than they normally do; we'll only be able to sell a few dozen eggs at the markets this week, and that's quite a blow."

Mrs. Barnes continued to speak, filling both of them in, but remained facing away from them at the sink.

After a few minutes, Alessandro managed to catch Maisie's eye. He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, lifting himself off his seat until his face hovered just inches away from hers.

"This isn't over," he whispered.

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Maisie tapped her foot under the table and looked up at the clock. The three of them had been chatting for close to an hour.

Why won't he just leave

, she thought. If he stayed much longer she would have to choose between a bath and a nap, and that was a decision she did not want to make.

She supposed she could go upstairs now, but she didn't want to leave him alone with her mother. Maisie knew her mother well, and this morning's innocent act wasn't fooling her for a second. She knew her mother was playing dumb. She had pushed and prodded the conversation along in her own subtle way the entire morning. She was up to something. Who knows what the two of them would talk about if she left them alone.

"Well, I should get going. Mrs. Barnes, thanks for the coffee and the quiche. It was great, really. You make a killer crust. I don't know how you manage to make it so flaky."

"It's the lard, dear. One should always use both butter and lard in crust. Why so many women stopped using lard, I'll never know." She shook her head and tutted before giving him a fond smile. "Alessandro, come back whenever you'd like. I'll make sure to have a quiche or pie waiting for you, or whatever it is you want."

Alessandro stood and gave Mrs. Barnes a quick hug before turning towards the door.

Maisie sighed in relief as she imagined the scented bubbles that awaited her upstairs. She opened her mouth to say goodbye, but then he paused at the door and turned towards her.

"Maisie? Want to walk with me?"

She stilled. She knew he had meant it when he had mouthed that it wasn't over, but she had hoped that he wouldn't want to talk

now

.

His lips twitched. She realized that he could see her hands, which were now gripping the edge of the bench as if she expected him to come over, throw her over his shoulder, and haul her out of the kitchen.

She forced her fingers to relax, and smiled. "No, thanks. I think I'd like to stay here. Thanks for helping me pick this morning, though. I appreciate it, really."

He shrugged. "No problem. Maybe I can put off going home a bit longer. I'll come and sit by you, and we can talk about your place in, ah, Brooklyn, and, you know, catch up a bit."

She scooted off the bench in a flash.

"You know what? You're right. Maybe a little walk would be nice after all that sitting."

She groaned to herself as she walked out the door. How could she have forgotten about her little scheme? No, she knew how she could have forgotten about it; she'd been pulling it off for so long that it no longer seemed abnormal to her. It was a part of her everyday life.

Still, why did she never anticipate how her plans would go awry? They always did; as much as she hated to admit it, there was no doubt about that. So why hadn't she figured out how to handle this earlier? Why was she always flying by the seat of her pants?

She headed towards the path that led to his house, her head down as the thoughts sped through her brain. She shrieked as she felt his hands grip her around the waist.

"Hey!"

"Maisie Barnes, I'm going to figure out exactly what happened back in that kitchen. Come on."

She glared for a moment, but then shrugged and followed him.

Best to get it over with, Maisie

, she thought.

You have no one to blame but yourself for this mess.

They stopped when they reached the rear of the old, gambrel roofed barn.

Alessandro sighed as he turned to face her. "So, what was that about, Maisie?" He wasn't angry. He had assumed a matter-of-fact manner and seemed almost amused with her, like he had when they were children and he had caught her planning another afternoon's activity. "Come on Maisie, what did you do?"

She hesitated. She knew that what she was about to explain went far beyond an innocent afternoon activity. "I called her that night."

He wrinkled his brow in confusion. "What night?"

She gave him an exasperated look. "What do you mean, 'what night?' How many 'that nights' have we had? You know what I mean."