Roswell Fanatics

Chapter 30

Zan

“So Alexander, how exactly did you and my granddaughter meet?”

The question is such an innocent one yet so fraught with tension I nearly choke on my glass of water. In the back of my mind that old tune plays, “What you won’t do for love.” Apparently not much because at this moment I feel rather like I’m facing a firing squad and yet I’m doing so gladly just to see a smile of my beautiful girl’s face. Although, technically, she’s not smiling at present but rather chewing fretfully on her lower lip. And she’s gorgeous…God, is she…

It takes me a second to redirect my attention and when I do Susan McKee is surveying me querulously. Steadying my nerves by way of unclogging my throat I finally answer her question. “We met at the Crashdown,” I tell her, “I used to hang out there a lot and I would see Claudia when she visit during the summer. But I never spoke to her until she moved to Roswell.”

“The Crashdown,” her grandmother parrots, screwing her face up in distaste, “Isn’t that the greasy spoon owned by Elizabeth’s parents?”

“It’s hardly a ‘greasy spoon,’ Grandmother,” Claudia speaks up defensively, proudly. Susan McKee makes a dismissive waving gesture, which serves to elicit a growl of frustration from Claudia.

“Isn’t it some sort of fast food chain,” Charles McKee asks quickly, evidently trying to make a desperate save concerning his wife’s faux paus.

“No, it’s just a little café located in downtown Roswell,” Claudia answers, “But Mom and Gram have been talking about starting a chain.”

“That sounds profitable,” Grandpa McKee rallies though all his wife contributes is a noncommittal grunt.

“I hope that’s not what you plan on doing now that you father is dead,” Susan McKee remarks rather coldly, “Waitressing in some Podunk town is hardly the future I envisioned for you, Claudia.”

Susan McKee is definitely unafraid to speak her mind. Unfortunately, neither is her granddaughter. I wish I could duck and take cover right now. Claudia has that look on her face. Her teeth are set so tightly they look as if they might pop right though her cheeks. Her eyes are dark, like a thunderstorm and brimming with just as much fury. “What’s not what I plan?” she demands, her tone vibrating with impatience and affront.

“Well, naturally I assumed you’d be moving back to Roswell with your mother--,”

“Understandable given the circumstances,” Claudia interjects stiffly, folding her arms over her chest.

“—and I’m assuming you’ll be helping her out in that diner of hers,” Mrs. McKee finishes direly.

“That diner belongs to my grandmother, not to Mom,” Claudia corrects with a taut smile, “And, of course, I’ll help out there if I’m needed…just as I have since I was thirteen years old.”

“And what about college, hmm?” her grandmother queries crisply, “Have you given any thought to your education?”

“I told you that I’m taking a break,” Claudia says, “But then that was a given considering my pregnancy and all.”

With the reminder of our impending parenthood Susan McKee levels me with a disdainful glare. Clearly, the day and a half she’s had to mull the situation over has not been enough. “So what do you plan to do about all this?”

I sharpen my gaze on her perfect features, startled. “Pardon, maam?”

“You’re the one who impregnated her and forced her to drop out of school,” Mrs. McKee clarifies, “I’m interested to know how you plan on remedying that. Or did you not think any further than taking her to bed?” Ooh, the face is burning now. It’s little wonder my cheeks don’t burst into flame at this point.

“Susan!” her husband hisses in warning, but then he is unrepentantly ignored.

“Well?” she demands with a sniffing air of impatience.

“Claudia and I are both taking a break from school to figure out what we should do next,” I tell her candidly, “But I promise you…I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that she and our child are well cared for.”

“Hmm…pity you didn’t consider the future before you got her pregnant.” Both Claudia and I are flaming now, with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation, but we say nothing partly because we both know Susan McKee’s ire is quite righteous. In the end, we merely sit there and take it. “So I’m to understand that neither of you are employed, neither of you are in school and neither of you have a place to stay? Have I covered everything nicely?”

“Pretty much,” I mutter self-consciously.

“Susan, you’re being extremely rude,” Mr. McKee admonishes in a whisper but again it’s as if he has said nothing at all.

“Will you, at least, do the respectable thing and give my granddaughter and her child your name?” Claudia’s grandmother demands.

“You mean marry her,” I ask and to my left Claudia lets out a long-suffering groan.

“Oh God, kill me now,” she mumbles under her breath.

“That’s a good place to start,” Susan McKee says primly, “Charlie and I will even pay for the wedding if you’d like. I’d just as soon not see my first and only great grandchild born out of wedlock.”

“I have every intention of marrying Claudia, Mrs. McKee,” I swear fervently. I look over to my beet-faced love and covertly squeeze her hand beneath the table. She offers me a wan smile but the brilliance of her cheeks does not fade. “I love Claudia,” I continue softly, my eyes still trained on the object of my affections, “She’s my life.”

“I’d settle for her having your name,” her grandmother interjects coolly.

“Grandmother,” Claudia enunciates in the most awful tone, “Will you please stop? You’re embarrassing me…and Zan.” However, Susan McKee is obviously on a roll. She refuses to be quelled.

“Zan,” she scoffs, “Hrmph. What sort of name is Zan anyway? Alexander is a perfectly suitable name. My grandfather’s name was Alexander. Zan is not a respectable name.”

“Yes, maam,” I agree dutifully, eyes downcast.

“And you do seem like a perfectly reasonable young man, Alexander,” she observes, “Very polite and courteous. But I really wonder if my granddaughter is in love with you or if she’s merely had her head turned by your pretty face.”

“Oh good God,” Claudia groans, dropping her face into her hands, “Will someone please end the madness?” After several deeps breaths she lifts her head and then says as calmly as she can manage, “Grandma, I am in love with Zan. This is not a crush. This is not infatuation. It’s the real thing.”

“Even though he’s your stepbrother?” her grandfather wonders.

Claudia smiles at him faintly. “He’s been my boyfriend a lot longer than he’s been my stepbrother,” she tells him, “I loved him long before Mom and Max even thought about seeing each other again.” Her tone becomes infinitely softer as she continues. “Look, I know it might be a little difficult for you to accept what’s going on between us but I can assure you that it’s real and it’s pure.” She looks over at me, her eyes transmitting the feeling she can’t presently voice. “Zan and I were meant to be together. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

“You’ll have to forgive our skepticism, sweetheart,” her grandfather replies kindly, “You tell us that you and Zan have been dating for over a year and yet this is the first we’ve heard about it. Surely your father would have said something.”

The table grew uncomfortably quiet with the mention of Claudia’s father. It was impossible not to notice how McKee stumbled over his words when referring to his dead son. Their wounds were still remarkably fresh and I saw little point in burdening them with the details of the rocky situation between Claudia, her father and I. One swift glance in Claudia’s direction told me that she felt the same.

“Dad didn’t know about us,” she reveals quietly, “I was trying to find the right way to tell him. I only just told him the truth a few days before…before he died.”

“And how did he react?” Susan McKee asks, deliberately folding her hands atop the table. I can see that her goal is not to condemn or belittle, but to glean as many details about her son’s final moments as she possibly can. Her eyes are hungry for the information though she holds an outward appearance of unruffled calm.

“He was furious…at first,” Claudia answers honestly, “But I think he was coming around.” She looks over at me, her eyes darkening with remembered sorrow. “He had invited Zan and me to come and spend a few weeks with him up in Sacramento.”

“So then he knew about the baby?” Mrs. McKee prompts hopefully.

Claudia nods. “He gave us a credit card so we could buy baby stuff,” she says, “I know it was hard for him but he was trying to adjust.”

Ironically enough, a conversation that began as awkward and stilted ends with laughing recounts of David McKee’s boyhood stunts. It seemed that talking about her father’s reaction to the pregnancy had opened up a floodgate of emotion for the McKees. Once they began talking about their son they were unable to stop. I listened to their tales with a silent smile, carefully noting exactly from whom Claudia had inherited her impulsiveness. But then I suppose I had already known that about David McKee. Hadn’t Claudia once told me that he proposed to Liz immediately after he found out she was pregnant? Yes, Claudia’s acts first, think later attitude had definitely come from David McKee. I wonder vaguely if our own child will have that particular trait and, for all the trouble it would cause, I rather hope so.

So our lunch, which began as amazingly awkward, became something unexpectedly relaxed and enjoyable. Claudia and I were even smiling when we left the café and headed back over to the McKee’s sprawling manor. Presently, we stand in front of Claudia’s bedroom door and I’m faced with the prospect of leaving her and heading across the hall to my own lonely bedroom. Though sleeping apart had seemed a good idea in theory I’m quickly finding the situation unbearable. Presently, I try my hand at convincing Cee to forgo the idea altogether by way of nipping at the underside of her jaw.

“Zan,” she moans, dancing out of my reach to stave me off, “This is not a good idea.”

“It’s not like they don’t know we’re together,” I argue petulantly, reaching for her, “And they like me…I can tell.”

Claudia twirls again. “Exactly my point,” she says, “This afternoon was semi-perfect and…I just don’t want to jinx it.”

“I don’t have to stay the night,” I wheedle in a sly whisper, “Just until dinner time.” I creep closer, snaking my arms around her waist and dipping my head low into the crook of her shoulder. “I need to be close to you.”

“Zan, I want this to be right,” Claudia insists, but I’m well aware of the wavering in her tone. I can bend her to my way of thinking if I want. She’s fair game as it is. But I don’t want to push her, especially because I know this relative peace with her grandparents is almost as important to her as staying in my arms. I don’t want to make her choose.

“You’re right,” I sigh finally, letting my arms fall slack as I take a step backward, “Besides I kinda of like being on your grandparents’ good side, particularly your grandmother. She seems like a really tough person to win over.”

“She is,” Claudia agrees wryly, “Not even my mother has managed to do that…not in twenty years.”

“Then I definitely want to stay on her good side,” I reply seriously.

Claudia’s features flicker with a surprised frown. “You almost sound as if you admire her or something.”

“I do.” Really, I don’t suppose I realized it until this second though.

Her jaw drops to her chest. “But…But why?” she sputters, “After she was so rude and obnoxious to you over lunch? I was sure you’d despise her.”

“Nah,” I reply with a shake of my head, “She was cool. I was just grateful that she gave me a chance, you know, instead of just hating me on sight…which was kinda what I expected. And from the way she grilled me I can tell she really cares about you so that’s ace in my book.” I reach out to pinch her cheek. “Now I know where you get it from.”

Cee laughs at that. “No way,” she denies flatly, “I’ll never be like her in a million years.”

“Well, what about Cassidy,” I query softly, dropping my eyes to her still flat tummy. I caress her there, feather-light. “I still can’t believe she’s really in there. Everyday I have to remind myself and everyday I’m still amazed.”

She slides her fingers over mine so that they’re intertwined over her belly. “Me too,” she breathes, “Another five months or so and she’ll be here.” Cee looks at me then, her gaze steady but murky with anxiety. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Yeah, me neither,” I mumble in agreement, “But you know I was thinking…”

“Thinking?”

“About something your grandmother said.”

“Oh, Zan. Don’t listen to her.”

“No, she was right about this,” I protest in soft vehemence, “We should get married, Cee.”

Claudia expels a tiny breath of respite. “I thought that was already a forgone conclusion,” she says, laughing.

“I don’t mean some time off in the distant future,” I clarify fervidly, “I meant soon.”

“How soon do you mean?” she asks deliberately.

I nibble at the corner of my mouth, trying to determine the wisdom of springing this on her and so soon after her father’s death, but then at the last second I decide to lay my cards bare. “I was thinking that…instead of flying back to Roswell tomorrow afternoon like we planned…we could fly to Vegas instead and…get married.” She doesn’t say anything for a very long time and I’m not surprised. I’m sure if I blow on her she’ll keel right over. She just stands there blinking at me. “Well?” I prompt a moment later.

“It’s funny,” she considers vapidly, “I don’t remember you drinking any alcohol at lunch.”

“Cee, I’m completely, 100% sober and serious about this.”

“You want to get married tomorrow?” she bleats incredulously, “Why?”

“Why not?” I counter, “What the hell are we waiting for? It just suddenly hit me when your grandmother was talking today. What am I waiting for? I love you, Claudia. I don’t want to be with anyone else.” Taken up in the moment I drop down to one knee and press her hand firmly between my own. “I’ve given you everything I have to give, Cee,” I continue ardently, “My trust…my heart…my body and now…I want to give you my name, too. I want every single part of me to belong to you and…I want every single part of you to belong to me. So would you please, Claudia Lorraine McKee, do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She’s crying by this point, but honestly, despite the tears, I don’t remember ever having seen Cee so happy before. And, as per usual, she answers my proposal in the most untraditional fashion. She sinks down to her knees before me, cradles my face and kisses me til my ears ring. “You know I’m not letting you take this back,” she warns when we come up for a brief draught of air.

“I don’t intend to,” I reply, but before she can mesh her lips back to mine I jerk aside and demand with mock crossness, “Wait. You never gave me an answer. You gonna marry me or what?”

Cee rolls her eyes in the most long-suffering fashion and sighs, 1000-watt grin firmly in place, “Oh well…I guess.”

TBC

Chapter 31

Liz

“Oh my God,” I utter upon entering my kitchen.

It’s a mess. No. Mess is too tame a word to describe the absolute disarray I’ve stumbled into. Pots, bowls and various utensils are littered all about in no particular order. There’s a brown substance, which I suspect is chocolate, smeared all across my countertops, the refrigerator and encrusted on my good kitchen towels. But at present I’m less concerned with the countertops because my attention is directed towards my two boys who are, incidentally, smeared in chocolate as well.

“What on earth have you two been doing?” I whisper as I stumble inside fully. I cast a hapless glance about the kitchen. “This place is a wreck.” I cast a dubious glance at Max and our toddler son huddled at his side. “You guys are a wreck,” I amend wryly.

Max and Justin stare at me with similar wide-eyed expressions and I have to check the urge to laugh outright. I’ve never seen a deer caught in the headlights before but I imagine that the expressions on my son and husband’s faces are right on the money. At the moment Max looks torn between flight, laughter and chagrin.

“We wanted to surprise you,” he says with an air of disappointment, hoisting Justin from a nearby chair and into his arms, “You’re home early. I wasn’t expecting you until closer to six.”

“I thought I’d surprise you by coming home early,” I return with a wry smile, “So what’s going on? Why has my kitchen exploded with--,” I peer around the kitchen once more. “God, Max. I really hope this is…chocolate?” I start to lay my purse down on the island but think better of the idea when I can’t find a clean spot. Instead, I content myself with tucking the small handbag underneath my arm. Now it’s Max’s turn to laugh though he makes a valiant effort to hide it. “Well?”

“We made you a cake,” Max reveals proudly, “We just put it into the oven a few minutes before you walked in.”

“Did you now?” That explains why I didn’t yet smell anything cooking despite the mad evidence surrounding me.

“It chocdit!” Justin provides happily.

“Is it?” I squeal, leaning forward to lift him from Max’s arms. I twirl Justin in a series of circles, raining baby kisses on his chocolaty neck. “Did you make me chocolate cake?” I ask him again, “You know that’s Mommy’s absolute favorite!” I bestow more kisses, loud, smacking ones.

“Hey! What about me?” Max cries in mock disgruntlement, “All he did was lick the bowl I’m the one who actually cooked the thing!” I laugh and dutifully lift upon my toes to give him a kiss. “And it’s not even the box kind,” Max grouches on, “I made it from scratch…got the recipe off the Net and everything.”

“Oh my mighty man,” I croon into his mouth, “Why so much trouble? What’s the occasion?”

“It’s an ‘I’m proud of you’ cake,” Max announces with flourish. He strokes a hand down the slop of Justin’s head. “We both are.”

“What did I do?” I wonder blankly.

“You haven’t phoned Claudia since we left Vermont yesterday though I know you’ve been dying to do it.”

With his reminder my smile falters a little. It’s taken an incredible amount of restraint and strength on my part but I haven’t phoned Claudia. She hasn’t phoned me either, which makes my resolve not to call her waver somewhat.

It’s not that I suspect she’s in a bad way or anything, but rather I wish I knew what she was thinking. Claudia and I have never had the sort of relationship where we told one another everything and now I yearn for it. I yearn for it and I suspect forlornly that time for such intimacy has passed long ago.

I’m sad, not necessarily because she hasn’t called me, but because I never presented myself to her as a person she could call and now that I do she’s found other shoulders to lean on. I hate that. All those wasted years being afraid to be a mother, being so fearful of that kind of commitment and now that I’m finally over it Claudia no longer needs that kind of devotion. She’s not a little girl anymore…not my little girl. That particular truth has been exceedingly hard for me to swallow, but I’m managing. I’m plunking along…

“You certainly are,” Max whispers, easily reading my thoughts, “And you deserved some commendation for it.”

“Don’t praise me just yet,” I warn him, collapsing down onto a nearby stool but not before checking it over meticulously. “Seeing as how she still hasn’t called me…I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold out.”

“You’ll do fine. She said she’d call you if she needed you, Liz,” Max tells me, “Trust that, relax and eat some cake.”

I toss him an amused look. “Is that your philosophy now? When things get rough just have a slice of cake?”

“Or two,” Max adds glibly.

“Max!”

“Hey, it got me through my undergraduate years.”

“You’d better thank God every day for that fast metabolism, Evans.”

Max favors me with a wicked grin and then leans in for a kiss. “That and the fact I’ve been blessed with a wife who gives me a regular workout in the bedroom.” He pats his taut belly with a cheshire smile. “Keeps me fit.”

“Shut up,” I laugh, giving him a playful push, “Not in front of the boy. You’ll singe his tender ears.” I start to cover over Justin ears but, almost on cue, he begins squirming in my arms. A few seconds later he’s wriggled out of my lap and has gone scampering over to one of the nearby pots to beat loudly against the back with a wooden spoon.

“You’ve got him all worked up, I see,” I speculate to Max, “Exactly how much sugar did you give him?”

“I only let him lick the bowl for the batter.” I fix him with an incredulous stare. “Okay. Okay,” Max surrenders, “I gave him a few tastes of the frosting as well but that’s it. I swear!”

“When his stomach erupts tonight then it’s on your head not mine,” I tell him.

“Actually,” Max corrects with some degree of smugness, “It’s on your mother’s head. I’m taking you out tonight.”

“And just when did you arrange all that?”

“I didn’t arrange anything,” he says, “Nancy called around one o’clock this afternoon and said she thought she’d give me a break with Justin.” He glances over my head at the clock just beyond my shoulder. “She should be here in another few minutes.”

“Well, in that case,” I reply, reluctantly pushing from the barstool, “We may as well start scrubbing Justin down.”

Thirty minutes later my mom arrives to take Justin off our hands and Max and I are soaked through and through with bath water. As we stand in the doorway and wave goodbye to Mom as she pulls from the drive I know instinctively that Max has lost his verve for dinner. Incidentally, so have I. I’d much rather spend a quiet evening at home with him anyway.

I slant up a glance to his face. “You wanna call it a night?” I ask tiredly.

“Only if you do,” he considers.

“Max!” I groan, giving his butt a good-natured pinch.

“Okay, I am exhausted,” he concedes with a sigh, “And the kitchen is a mess…”

I roll my eyes at him, already quite keen on where he’s going with his argument. “Yeah, yeah…I’ll help you.”

With both of us doing a share cleaning the kitchen should not have taken more than an hour but it stretched out to three as we had bubble fights, chased each other around with soaking sponges and eventually succumbed to cake, milk and lovemaking on the cold linoleum floor. I lay naked in Max’s arms now, leaned back against the unyielding wood of our kitchen cabinets as he strokes sweaty tendrils of hair from my face. It’s a perfect moment, save for all the regrets suddenly nagging at the back of my mind.

“Do you ever wish you could go back, Max?” I ask breathlessly.

He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Go back to what?”

“I don’t know,” I muse wearily with an inward shrug, “I guess sometimes I wish I had just come home right after I found out I was pregnant with Claudia. I only managed to complicate everything even more by marrying David…and nearly ruined all our lives in the process.”

“Well, I for one, am glad you didn’t come home,” Max remarks softly. That statement makes me rear back in speechless surprise and consequently I bang my head against the cabinet in the process. I yelp as stars burst before my eyes. “Oooh, Liz,” Max soothes with a wince and a laugh, “Did that hurt, babe?”

I rub the tender spot and pin him with a warning glare. “It’s not funny.”

Max dutifully straightens his face. “No, of course not,” he agrees, “Would you like me to--,” He lifts his hand, the telltale glow already beginning.

“That’s not necessary,” I tell him, rearing back slightly, “At most I’ll just have a small bump. What I really want to know is what you meant just now when you said you were glad I didn’t come home.”

“Liz,” Max sighs, “I’ve explained all this to you once before. Those times were extremely dangerous. Tess was a constant threat. Khivar wanted me dead. It was a nightmare.”

“I could have helped you,” was my insistent reply.

“No, you don’t understand,” he protests, shaking his head, “My world was in civil unrest. Half the people wanted to follow Khivar while the other half remained loyal to my family and me. There had even been some brief talk of defection to earth…you know, colonizing here. It was a crazy time.”

“You’re kidding,” I breathe in dismay.

“I’m not,” Max recounts grimly, “Even Larek was urging me to come back. And around that time I was a wreck. Between fending off Tess, taking care of Zan, working, school and not to mention lack of sleep I was running on empty. If you’d come back home then I would have fallen apart altogether.”

I favor him with a crooked smile and cup his cheek lightly. “Or maybe I would have made you stronger,” I counter softly.

“You couldn’t stand the sight of me,” he recalls ironically.

“We would have worked it out somehow.”

“Better that you waited then.” He turns into my palm, runs his tongue along the seam of my lifeline. “You would have put yourself in danger otherwise,” he predicts, “Tess wouldn’t have hesitated to use you against me, Liz. Hell, she did it even when you weren’t there.”

“How did she do that?” I wonder aloud.

“She taunted me with your absence,” Max tells me, “And especially after we received news that you were pregnant and had gotten married.” He chokes a little laugh. “God, that nearly killed me and she knew it.” Max emits another grating chuckle. “Tess thought that would be the thing, you know. She thought that losing you for good would finally make me accept her in my life.” He fixes me with a penetrating stare. “She was wrong and after that…all hell broke loose.”

“But I don’t understand,” I say, “Why did Khivar use Tess at all? Why didn’t Khivar just kill you outright and take the throne?”

“He needed a legal tie to hold it,” Max explains, “Without that even his followers knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on. The plan was for me to marry Tess, thus naming Zan as my heir. Afterward I would befall some horrible, tragic accident and then my poor widowed wife would turn to Khivar for comfort. He would be in control.”

“But wouldn’t the throne have rightfully belonged to Zan?”

“In theory, but you see he was only a baby. That would necessitate Khivar having to rule in his stead,” he details further, “You see, on Antar Khivar served as my father’s royal advisor and then he served me when I inherited the crown. After the uprising when I was…killed…Khivar had legal precedence to take the throne because I had died without an heir. Later when it was discovered I was alive Khivar’s rule was called into question.”

“When exactly was that discovered?” I whisper, “Your being alive, I mean?”

“Don’t look like that,” he murmurs, reading the sick expression on my face, “It had nothing at all to do with the attention from the shooting. It was the orbs, Liz. He found out I was alive when we set off the orbs in podchamber. Nasedo knew that.”

“But…but he told you not to,” I protest.

The corners of his mouth curve in an embittered smirk. “Only because he knew that would make us even more determined to use them,” he replies, “Nasedo was a master manipulator and he passed his skills onto Tess. After he was killed Tess decided to strike her own deal with Khivar.”

“To get pregnant with your child and then deliver you for execution,” I conclude sadly but without my usual disgust over the fact. “God….and I practically paved the way for her and everything.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Max whispers fervently, “You saved my life, too, remember? I would have gone back to Antar if it weren’t for you.”

“And then I left you right after,” I remind him sadly.

He cradles my face in his hands, as if he means to convey the intensity of his feelings through his touch. “I’m glad you did, Liz,” he says, “I’m glad you left me. When I think back to how chaotic things were then I thank God you didn’t come back. I would have much rather had you safe and happy even if you were married to someone else. Please don’t regret anymore, sweetheart,” he implores, “Everything worked out just as it should have.”

“Are you sure?” I ask tremulously.

He kisses me and pulls me close, soothing the shivers that are suddenly wracking my body. “I’m positive.”

TBC


AN: There are just two more chapters left in this story. Originally I intended for it to be longer but I've been thinking that I've found a good place to end it. Plus I'm using it as a set up for the events in And the Road... and I didn't want to be writing both stories at the same time. Just wanted to keep you guys updated.

Chapter 32

Claudia

I step from the bathroom and call out his name softly, clicking off the light as I do. Still the room is bathed in a low hum of lamplight, an almost ghostly yellow glow that transform Zan’s features as he turns toward me on the bed. I think in that moment I am as stunned by his unyielding beauty as he is by my nudity. He looks at me as if he’s never seen me before or…as if he’s seeing me for the first time. His gaze is intense, penetrating, electrifying…

I feel the reflexive urge to cover myself but somehow I find the strength to keep my arms pinned at my sides because I want him to look. I want him to see the changes, to see the evidence of our child growing inside me. But still I continue to feel a peculiar self-consciousness as he watches me, inwardly fearful that he might find the subtle differences in my body repugnant.

In the back of my mind I acknowledge that my feelings is ridiculous. Zan has never been anything less than enamored with my body. And besides the differences aren’t so stark yet though they are noticeable. But none of those mental reassurances can calm the frenzied butterflies in my belly because this time, this moment seems wholly different, incredibly sacred. It is the first time, in nearly a week, that we’ve been intimate, but most importantly it is the first time ever that we’ve been together as husband and wife. And I’m desperate, mad with the need that this moment be painstakingly perfect. I tremble a bit with the conviction, inundated with anticipation and heightened awareness.

Zan slips from the sheets with only a whisper of sound and crosses the room in an almost floating gait. His eyes never leave mine the entire time. They are staring into my soul, into his soul really. Because I belong to him…in every way now.

When he finally stands before me I can see the aching desire to touch me written all over him but he seems stymied by the same nervous excitement that has been plaguing me. I watch his Adam’s apple bob spasmodically as he wages his silent battle. Inevitably, however, the tension overwhelms me and I have to break it.

“Zan?” I say again, his name coming out as little more than a croak, “What are you thinking right now?”

“You’re…you’re showing a little,” he whispers in wonder. His eyes travel hungrily down the length of my body, languorously absorbing the subtle changes before settling once again on my blushing face. “God, Cee,” he utters, his hands hovering so near but still not touching…just barely touching, “You’re so pretty.” And then he dips his head to graze his lips across my cheek. “Is this for real?” I groan his name again. “It feels like I’m dreaming,” he breathes against my skin, “Are you really my wife? Did we really get married this morning?”

I turn into his kiss, so that our mouths glance and dance with one another. “You don’t regret it,” I murmur anxiously, “Do you?”

Zan answers with a small laugh and, at last, he touches me. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath in anticipation until his fingers make contact with my skin and a rush of air gushes from my lungs. He brushes the dark skein of hair from my shoulders, baring my breasts to his feasting eyes. His touch is light as it meanders over my quivering flesh, mellifluous, anointing… I rendered holy at the edge of his fingertips, an object of worship, of adoration, of undiluted desire. In his arms I’m something perfect and precious. I’m flawless.

I’m loved.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I wake the next morning to the sensation of the bed dipping low beside me. Still teetering on the edges of sleep I roll towards that dip, smile ghosting my lips. When I finally open my eyes I’m staring into the beautiful, ethereal face of my husband. “Good morning, my wife,” he greets in husky reference.

“Good morning, my husband,” I greet in return, gathering the sheets against my breasts and pushing up onto my elbow. It’s then that I recognize he’s dressed in a pair of gray sweats and a t-shirt. I frown. “Why do you have clothes on?”

“Katie and Jules,” he explains with a grin, “They wanted to do breakfast before we headed back to Roswell to face the music and…I couldn’t answer the door buck naked, now could I?”

“Now that would have been a sight,” I tease him with a leer.

He tweaks my nose. “For you maybe.”

Katie and Julian had been good enough to drive up from Roswell to witness our nuptials and celebrate with us. After they had gotten over their initial shock that we really meant to elope we couldn’t keep them from taking a part in the celebration. And so, in a small chapel at eleven o’clock yesterday morning, Zan and I had been married with our two best friends looking on. Zan wore a tux for the occasion while I chose for myself a simple, white sheathe gown. There had been no flowers, no rice, no endless parade of groomsmen and bridesmaids but the ceremony had remained 1000% romantic.

I did have a momentary flash of guilt about getting married without the presence of my mother but it had been important to both Zan and I that our wedding be strictly about us. We well knew that if we had invited our parents they would have done their utmost to talk us out of it. Better we did exactly as we had, which was marry first and leave the explanations for latter…something I wasn’t exactly looking forward to doing.

“Ah…ah,” Zan admonishes, pulling me from my musings, “No thinking about reality until after we leave here.” He stretches out beside me in bed and pulls my body flush against his own. “I want this time, while we’re here, to be all about us.”

“I can’t help it,” I mutter, snuggling deeper into his arms, “My mind is just going a mile a minute now. I couldn’t stop thinking if I tried.”

Above my head I hear the deep rumble of Zan’s resigned sigh. “Okay,” he relents hesitantly, “Out with it.”

“I feel guilty.” His body tenses around mine but I suspect he’s not all that surprised by my admission. However, he remains silent, waiting for me to continue. “Not just about getting married without Mom and Max there but…about my dad as well.”

Zan tips back my chin so he can look into my eyes. “Cee, what about him?” he asks gently.

“Doesn’t it seem wrong for me to be so happy when my dad’s only been dead a week?”

“Do you think it’s wrong?” he queries.

“I don’t know…it’s like I’m betraying his memory or something.” But Zan looks so stricken by my words that I’m quickly trying to cover them over. “Oh just forget I said that,” I sigh dismissively, “Forget I said anything. I’m just being…”

“You’re just being human,” Zan finishes for me, “You feel what you feel, Claudia. You shouldn’t have to apologize for it.”

I stroke his cheek with the tip of my finger, tracing down the ridge of his chin. “I don’t want you to think I regret marrying you.”

“I don’t think that,” he whispers, “You’re confused and I understand that.”

“I just feel like I should be grieving or something,” I reason aloud, “Not making love to you. But what makes it so much worse is that’s what I want. I’d rather be making love to you than thinking about my dad. I’d rather be happy.”

Zan chuckles a little at that. “I think everybody feels that way, Cee. No one I know likes to be depressed.”

“But don’t I owe some period of sadness to my dad’s memory?”

“His memory?” Zan echoes, “Babe, you barely knew him. How can you grieve for someone who was practically a stranger to you?”

“He was still my dad,” I insist quietly.

“Yeah, he was,” Zan agrees, “But that doesn’t mean you have to spend the rest of your life crying for him. It’s okay, Cee. You can still miss him and be happy, too. It’s okay to want to make love and laugh and smile. You’re allowed, baby. You’re alive.”

I’m moved as usual by his pervasive wisdom, so much in fact that I start to cry. “Then you don’t think I’m some horrible, heartless person for being so happy?” I sniffle.

“Actually, I kinda take it as a compliment,” he confesses wryly, “Means I’m doing something right.”

“You always do, Zan,” I tell him solemnly.

“Apparently not,” he sighs, “if you’re still second guessing our decision not to let our parents know we were planning to get married.”

“Zan, you know--,” I groan.

“It was mostly my idea,” he concedes gruffly, “And I know you didn’t particularly agree with it, but you went along anyway and… I appreciate that you supported me, Claudia, but it doesn’t mean you’re not entitled to misgivings.”

“They’re just gonna be so…hurt,” I mumble into his chest, “Especially my mom.”

“Believe it or not, Cee, I feel the same way you do,” he murmurs, “I hated keeping them in the dark, too, because I know they will be hurt by the exclusion. But you and I both know they would have tried to stop us from going through with it had they known what we planned. There would have been endless arguments about our age, our financial situation, Cassidy, even your dad’s death. Neither of them would have thought we were ready, Cee, and we would have still ended up doing it without their consent anyway.”

“But all of those reasons are valid, Zan,” I point out, playing Devil’s advocate for a moment, “Surely you can understand why they would be concerned.”

“I understand but I still don’t agree,” he says, “Valid though those issues may be they are private matters that should and have been worked out between us. Neither of our parents should have any say in that, but that wouldn’t have stopped them from sticking in their noses where they didn’t belong. I figured if we were going to have to explain our actions to them anyway we might as well do it after the fact.”

“They are going to be furious,” I predict direly.

“Babe, we didn’t hold up a liquor store,” Zan reasons sardonically, “We got married. It’s hardly a cardinal sin.”

“We got married without them there,” I correct succinctly, “In my mom’s book that is a cardinal sin.”

“Then we won’t go back,” Zan suggests on a whim, “We’ll go hang out at your dad’s house for a couple of days.” He angles his head so he can blow butterfly kisses against my ear. “We’ll swim. We’ll do some hiking. We’ll engage in as much newlywed sex as we want.”

“As tempting as that depraved offer is,” I tease, pushing him away slightly, “That would be running away from our problems and we both know that isn’t the adult thing to do. We know that getting married was the right thing for us and…and if we expect Max and Mom to understand we need to tell them that.”

“Exactly,” Zan agrees with a smug wiggle of his brows.

That’s when I realize what he’s done. He’s used reverse psychology, suggesting the wrong thing to do because he knows I will insist on doing the right thing, thereby ending my indecision. It was an effective ploy and equally dirty.

“You conniving asshole!” I accuse with a smile, shoving him unceremoniously from the bed. Zan’s eyes flare wide in surprise and he flaps his arms uselessly right before he goes over the edge, hitting the floor seconds later with a massive thump and a pained groan.

After I’ve finished laughing myself into fits I peek over the edge of the bed down to where he lays prostrate on the floor. “Are you okay?” I snicker.

He fixes me with incredulous blue eyes. “What do you think?” he demands crossly, “I think you broke my tailbone, you wench.”

“Oh, get up, you big baby,” I order without a hint of sympathy.

“No,” he pouts, “You bruised my ego and I’m never talking to you again.”

“I did?”

“Yes,” he says, “And I am also never getting up off this floor.” To emphasize his conviction he folds his arms over his chest resolutely.

I try again, but honestly I’m still hiccupping with hysterical giggles. “You’re not getting off the floor either?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Never?”

“There’s nothing you can say.”

I sit up, considering this with another fit of laughter. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Now I creep over the edge of the bed to stand above him in all my nakedness, my laughter died down to a sort of playful sexiness. “Are you’re positive?”

His eyes spark for a split second as they travel down the length of my body before he looks away. “Don’t talk to me.”

I drop down to straddle him, tickling at his sides mercilessly. “You know you want to laugh,” I cajole at his valiant attempt to stifle his giggles, “Come on, Alexander. Give into me!”

He grabs me so abruptly I yelp in surprise. He bands his arms around my body, his hands traveling down the slope of my back. My insistent squirming and giggling is halted altogether however when his hands curve over my buttocks and press me down hard into his groin. His meaning is quite unmistakable. “Now that I’ve given in,” he whispers huskily, “What do I get in return?”

I just smile in answer and lower myself for his kiss.

TBC

Chapter 33

Max

I scramble out of the bed when I hear a car pull up in the drive. A quick peek out the blinds assures me that my excitement is well founded. Grinning in anticipation, I reach over to give Liz a small shove. “Liz, wake up! I think this is them!” After anticipating all morning that we would be the ones to pick them up from the airport Zan called to inform us that he and Claudia would instead catch a ride home by way of Julian Valenti. With that unexpected three hours on our hands Liz and I had killed time together playing board games, only to fall asleep during our wait.

By the time we make it into the living room Zan and Claudia are already straggling through the front door, loaded down with parcels and whispering amongst themselves. For a moment I’m struck by the poignant picture they create, touching and kissing so softly, so reminiscent of Liz and I but without all the emotional baggage. I’m glad for them. I’m glad they were spared the trials Liz and I endured.

It’s the first moment I can ever remember thinking that Zan and Claudia were meant to be. Claudia had been made for Zan, much the way Liz had been made for me. I’m a little stunned to recognize that Liz and I aren’t the only soulmates in the room.

All too aware of the emotion suddenly crowding my chest I’m anxious to dismiss it and do so by way of announcing our presence to the oblivious, young lovers. “You guys need some help?” I ask them. There’s an initial instance of surprise when Zan and Claudia recognize they aren’t alone anymore, almost a guilty start before they step forward to embrace both Liz and I awkwardly.

“What took you so long?” I wonder aloud when Zan and I break from our embrace, “Liz and I expected you more than an hour ago. Was the plane delayed?”

“Well, there was definitely a delay,” Zan answers cryptically, flashing a secret smile over in Claudia’s direction. It’s impossible to miss the silent exchange between them and I’m on instant alert because of it.

“Are you two hungry?” Liz asks with typical motherly solicitation, seemingly impervious to the subtle tension crowding the foyer, “I can go in the kitchen and whip you both up something quick.”

“No, you don’t have to do a thing. We’re fine, Mom,” Claudia protests, “Jules stopped on the way and we grabbed a burger.”

“Well, why don’t we sit down then,” Liz suggests eagerly, “You can tell me all about your visit with your grandparents.”

As Liz loops her arm through with Claudia and the two disappear into the living room, I glance down at the few bags that litter the floor. “Is this all your stuff?” I ask Zan. Isn’t it just like a woman to leave the men with all the manual labor?

“There are a few more things out in the drive,” Zan explains, already heading back out the door. I follow close behind him, but I’m brought up short seconds later when faced with “few things” left to be carried into the house. More specifically, there are half a dozen shopping bags as well as several large boxes. “Don’t look so shocked,” Zan laughs when he glimpses my unenthusiastic expression, “We’re not carrying it all into the house. Most of the boxes we can go ahead and pack into the bed of my truck.”

“Why are you packing it into your truck?” I ask with a frown of confusion, “I’m assuming this is all baby stuff, right?” Zan answers with a slight nod. “Well, if you’re worried about there not being enough room, please don’t give it another thought. Liz and I converted the guest room while you guys were gone. We can store all the boxes there that way they’ll be available when you’re ready to set up Cassidy’s nursery.”

“Dad,” Zan hedges, visibly uncomfortable and curiously unable to meet my eyes, “That was really great of you guys and everything but…I don’t think Claudia and I will be needing that room after all.”

I repress a small smile. “Zan, I know how tempting it seems to just have the baby sleep with you and Claudia the first few months but…it’s a bad idea, son. You’ll pay for it later,” I advise him sagely, “I didn’t get you kicked out of my bed until you were four years old. It wasn’t pretty.”

“No, Dad,” Zan protests anxiously, “That’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the deal,” I wonder, frowning over his fidgety responses, “Why don’t you want to bring this stuff into the house?”

“Dad…God!” Zan utters, pacing around a little, “I didn’t want to tell you out here…not right now…not like this.”

I tense up, his obvious anxiety heightening my own. Automatically my mind has begun running down all sorts of dire possibilities. “Does this have anything to do with the look you and Claude passed between you in the house?” The guilty flush that darkens his features is answer enough. “What’s going on, Alexander?”

“Cee and I aren’t gonna stay here with you guys,” he announces flatly, “We’re going to head back up to Sacramento at the end of the week.”

“Sacramento?” I echo, my brow creasing into a dubious frown, “Why the hell would you want to do that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Zan demands a little frantically.

“No, it isn’t!”

“Dad, I--,” His answer is abruptly cut off, however, when Liz comes flying from the house in a flurry of emotion, gesticulating wildly. “What the hell is going on?” she demands irately, “What’s this business about you and Claude eloping, Zan!”

“Eloping?” I zigzag an incredulous look over to my shell-shocked son. “What is she talking about?” I ask blankly, “You and Claudia aren’t married…are you?”

“I didn’t say anything, Zan,” Claudia explains breathlessly as she trails out behind her mother a belated few seconds later, “She saw the ring and I…I didn’t know what to tell her...”

“It’s okay,” Zan soothes, “Just come here.” Neither one of them makes any attempt at explanation until Claudia is safely nestled at his side. Only then do the two of them face Liz and I. “We really didn’t want you to find out this way,” he sighs wearily, “We were planning to tell you together.”

“So it’s true then,” I whisper in stunned disbelief.

Zan bobs a nod, again not meeting my eyes. “Claudia and I eloped in Vegas yesterday morning.”

“But…but…you were supposed to be in Vermont yesterday,” Liz accuses, her voice hoarse with disappointment and betrayal, “How do you go from spending time at your grandparents to eloping? I just don’t get it.”

“Mom, it’s kinda hard to explain,” Claudia replies tremulously, “I guess Dad’s death made Zan and me realize how extremely fragile life is and…how quickly it can be taken away. We just didn’t see the point of waiting anymore.”

“Oh my God,” Liz utters, obviously not comforted by the explanation at all. Truth be told, neither am I.

“Can we please talk about this inside,” Zan pleads softly, “We’re drawing a crowd with the neighbors.” I nod stiffly, becoming aware then of the various neighbors witnessing the unfolding of our little melodrama. After stepping aside to allow Zan and Claudia to pass, Liz and I follow them into the house.

Once we’re all seated in the living room I utter gruffly, “So you two are married. I suppose congratulations are in order.” Neither Claudia nor Zan make any response to that. They don’t have to. Guilt is stamped over every inch of their features. “How did this whole thing come about exactly?”

“I guess it really started with Mrs. McKee,” Zan begins tentatively, “She had asked me why I hadn’t married Claudia yet and, honestly, that got me to wondering as well.”

“Maybe because you’re only nineteen,” I interject practically.

“And she’s having my baby, Dad,” Zan retorts immediately, “Nineteen or not, Claudia and I are starting a family together. Getting married was the next logical step…really it should have been the first.”

“But did you have to elope?” Liz wonders plaintively, “My God. Did either of you ever stop to think that Max and I would want to be a part of it?”

“Mom, we didn’t do it to exclude you,” Claudia protests fervently, “Please don’t feel that way.”

“How should I feel then?” Liz queries tearfully, “I thought you and I were finally getting on the right track with each other and now… God, Claudia, you didn’t even want me at your wedding.”

“Mom--,”

“And I assume Julian already knows about this since he’s the one who brought you home,” Liz concludes with a sniffle.

“Actually…he and Katie were our witnesses,” Zan reveals reluctantly.

“Oh…that’s great,” Liz pipes sardonically, her voice cracking with renewed tears, “You can invite them to your wedding but not your own parents!” As she breaks down completely I scoot closer to take her into my arms and stroke her heaving back.

“Do you see what you’ve done?” I hiss out in disappointment, “I just don’t understand what goes through your mind sometimes, Zan.”

“We didn’t do this to hurt you, Mom,” Claudia declares again, “Either of you.” I can tell from her anguished expression that she’s torn between remaining on the sofa beside Zan and stepping forward to comfort her mother. In the end, she leaves her husband’s side and creeps near to lay a trembling hand on Liz’s shoulder. “This had nothing to do with our relationship, okay,” she whispers, “We are getting better…I promise you.”

“Then why?” Liz and I ask simultaneously.

“Claudia and I just needed it to be about us,” Zan expounds, coming to stand behind his wife, “For as long as we’ve been together Claudia and I have always been in you and Dad’s shadow. Our relationship has always come second when compared to Max and Liz’s great love. No one will even take what we feel for one another seriously because they think we’re some by-product of you two. We just needed to have something that was completely about us for a change. We weren’t trying to slight you.”

“And we also weren’t so sure if you’d let us go through with it,” Claudia tacks on cautiously, “We just didn’t want to take the chance.”

“But we would have been happy for you,” Liz replies with tender fervency, “If it’s what you really wanted…you know we would have stood behind you. We would have supported you. Don’t you believe that, Claudia?”

“I’m trying, Mom…I really am,” Claudia confesses tearfully, “But…it was important that Zan and I get married on our terms and without having to explain away our actions. I promise that’s all it was. It had nothing to do with our feelings for you both. We love you.”

“So what do you plan to do now,” I wonder evenly. There was little point in dwelling on the elopement any longer since the deed was already done. Now we needed to find out what our young ones had planned for the future. “Zan says the two of you are only staying til the end of the week.”

Liz chokes back another sob as Claudia nods her confirmation. “We’re going to live in Dad’s house since it’s already paid for and everything.”

“And then in the Fall of next year we’re both going to start back to school,” Zan concludes definitively, “We’d like you both to be happy for us.”

“But that’s so much responsibility, you two,” Liz groans wearily, “And you both are so young. How are you planning to raise a baby, pay bills and go to school full-time? It’s too much.”

“I’m gonna get a job, Liz,” Zan explains further, “Claudia’s going to go to school full-time while I go part-time.”

“And Grandma and Grandpa McKee have set up a trust fund for us both to live off while we go to school,” Claudia tells us, “It’s in a money market account and the money draws enough interest for us to care for our monthly expenses without ever having to touch the principal.”

“What about child care and home owner’s insurance and all the other expenses that come along with raising a baby and maintaining a house?” Liz asks, “How are you gonna handle that on your own?”

“Well, if things get tight we always have the money from Dad’s life insurance policy,” Claudia replies gruffly, “Though Zan and I were planning to use most of it to put ourselves through school we can still use it for emergencies.”

“You don’t have to do that, Claudia,” I interrupt with a sigh, “Your mother and I went through a great deal of trouble setting up college funds for you both. That’s what the money’s for and that’s how it should be put to use.”

“Dad,” Zan protests, “That’s really not necess--,”

“It’s what we want,” I say resolutely, cutting him off in mid-sentence. I glance down at my wife. “Isn’t that right, Liz?”

There’s a flash in her eyes, but I know it’s because I’ve accurately read what’s in her heart and it surprised her. “Yes, it’s what we want,” Liz agrees thickly. But before a collective sigh can sound throughout the room she adds, “But on several conditions.”

“Several?” Claudia cries doubtfully, “Not just one?”

“What are the conditions?” Zan asks with his usual pragmatic acceptance.

“Well, first of all, you and Claudia have to let your father and I throw you a real wedding,” she says, “With a cake and flowers and guests who love you.”

Claudia and Zan exchange a mutual grin of relief. “Done,” they answer in unison.

“What else, Liz?” I ask, curious as to what other conditions my lovely wife has up her sleeve.

“Secondly, I demand to be there when my granddaughter is born,” Liz announces, “There’s no way I’m going to miss the first time my baby gives birth. Which means you can expect me for an extended visit some time in late March.”

“I think I can handle that,” Claudia agrees happily, “Anything else?”

“Yeah, just one more thing,” Liz says solemnly, “Don’t ever, ever exclude me from the major events in your life again. I’m your mother, Claudia. I want to share those precious moments with you…all of them, even when you think I won’t agree. Do you think you can promise that, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, Mom,” Claudia replies, dropping to her knees for her mother’s tight hug, “I really think I can.”

The End