Here you go!
Part three
Willow could feel the warmth of her wife’s flesh beside her. She pulled the woman in, leaving no question of intent. The blonde rolled onto her lover, kissing slowly down the length of her wife’s body, locks of blonde sweeping across bare alabaster flesh. Willow closed her eyes, basking in the sensation of loving lips across her skin. She tried to express but words came out as soft sounds of desire.
“Shh, don’t say anything.” Tara lingered over her wife’s side, dipping in along the soft curve of flesh between each rib. She could feel the pace of the redhead’s heart quicken. The blonde’s hand moved to feel the pulse against her palm. There were no barriers, no hesitations, no scars or wounds, only two hearts intertwining into one simultaneous rhythm. Tara kissed the warm space beneath her palm. She could feel the tempo of Willow’s pulse against her lips. She wanted more and could feel her lover’s desire for the same.
Willow arched into the sensation, aching for the contact, without hesitation. The blonde lingered. Her pace slow, hungry, fixed on deliberate savoring. She touched her way to the curve of the redhead’s neck, whispering in her ear. “Can I have you?”
The redhead felt her mouth run dry. She licked to moisten her lips, to only force a sound. “Mhhum.” She shuddered as Tara’s breath rolled across her ear, moving through her, waking every nerve.
Tara’s fingers splayed across her lover’s skin. “I love you.” She whispered across Willow’s breast. Her tongue danced in the dew of her heaving arched form. The blonde pulled away, hinging her arms to draw Willow up with her. “You are so beautiful.”
Willow opened her eyes. Tara pushed the damp deep red trails of hair from her lover’s cheeks, pressing her mouth over her wife’s. Their bodies connected in perfect form, touching, caressing every point of pulse until they found themselves locked in rhythmic ecstasy, looped in an endless cycle of love.
The handle of the bedroom door rattled.
Willow closed her eyes, blocking the sound from her consciousness. She held her lover. The blonde felt her body burn, aching for more. They stilled and the redhead sighed at the pause.
The handle rattled again. “Auntie Tara?” A small voice came through the seam of the door.
The redhead pressed her lips to her lover’s, passionately driving down along the length of the blonde’s collarbone. She whispered, “you are brilliant.” She leaned forward, pressing her wife to the mattress behind her. “You vixen, you planned to have your way with me.”
Tara smiled, feeling her wife glide along the length of her heaving breast. “Will, sweetie…ohh.”
“Auntie Tara, Auntie Willow, I can’t get the cover off the milk bottle.” He pulled the door, trying to shake it open.
“Will.” Tara grasped the crumpled weave of the bedspread.
“Auntie Tara?”
“We’ll be right down, Patrick.” Willow called toward the locked door. The redhead felt her lover tremble from the vibration of her voice. “Wait for me, baby.”
Little footsteps padded down the hall toward the staircase. Patrick trailed his fingers between the handrail spindles, plunking a tone all the way to the lowest step. He’d ventured the descent hundreds of times; each time delighted by the progressive speed at which he could get to the bottom. He felt an ache in his leg as he jumped the final two skids. His pace slowed as he walked toward the kitchen.
“Hey little brother.” Abbey sat at the table. She scooped a spoonful of puffed rice into her mouth. “You hungry?” She swiped the dribble of milk into her hand.
The slim boy pulled out the chair beside his cousin. He looked into the bowl, spinning his spoon in the pool of milk and puffed rice. “Thanks Abbey.”
She smiled. “Where’d you go?” She wondered why he’d left his breakfast half prepared.
“I went to get help with the milk.” He scooped a mouthful of cereal. “The door was locked though.” Tiny bits of food slipped out the corners of his mouth. “And you weren’t in your room.”
“My moms.” She looked at him. “It happens sometimes. They have a tricky door. If they don’t pay attention it gets locked.”
“I shook it really hard.” His eyes showed concern, “cause they didn’t answer at first. I think I woke ‘em up.”
“Are they coming down?”
“Yep.” He took another mouthful.
“You want some more?” Abbey dumped another helping of cereal into her bowl.
He answered with a full mouth. “No.”
They finished their breakfast. Patrick pushed the plastic of the cereal pouch back into the box. Little bits of puffed rice fell on the floor, crunching under his feet.
“Maybe they fell asleep.” Patrick looked toward the staircase. “Or they forgot I was hungry.” He pouted.
“They didn’t forget.” Abbey stopped him from climbing the stairs. She noticed him wince as he lifted his foot. “What’s wrong?”
“My leg hurts a lot today.” He rubbed his thigh through the soft flannel pajama pants.
“Did you tell mom?”
He shook his head. “They were sleeping…remember?”
“Oh yea. Maybe we should go tell ‘em?” She helped him climb to the top.
“Will they be mad at me?” He worried.
Abbey looked confused. “Because your leg hurts?”
He frowned. “No… because I woke them and then I didn’t need the milk.”
“Na, I wake them for stuff like that all the time.” She rattled the door handle. “Mom, Ma, can we come in?” She turned the handle. “Still locked. Are you sure they woke up?”
“Tara?” The redhead whispered to her lover. “Baby, you locked the door.”
“You were cheering about it earlier.” She rested against her wife’s sweat slicked shoulder.
“I was cheering about a lot of things, locks fell to the bottom of the list real fast.” The redhead climbed out from under her wife. “We wanted children, right?” She questioned playfully.
“We welcomed them with open arms. Remember?” Tara grabbed her lover’s hand as she crossed her body. “Kiss me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She leaned over the blonde.
“Don’t get me…” their lips met softly, “started again.”
The children pounded impatiently.
“Not a chance.” Willow pulled away slowly. “Open arms… children… wanted. Remember?”
She smiled as her naked wife slipped into her soft white terry robe. “I remember everything, Will.”
“Remember, it is me getting out of bed to unlock your door.” The redhead stuck out her tongue.
“Twenty minutes ago you thanked the goddess for that lock.” Tara pulled the sheets over her body.
Willow watched. “Oh to be 400 thread count cotton.” She unlocked the door.
“We got locked out, ma.” Abbey pouted.
The red head picked up her nephew.
“Abbey poured my milk, Auntie Will.”
“Did she?” The redhead saw the little boy wince as his leg wrapped around her waist.
Abbey looked at her little cousin, then at her mom. “Well, he loosened the cap for me.” She climbed onto the oversized bed.
Tara pulled the child into her arms. “Thanks, Ab. Your mom and I just needed a few more minutes together.” The blonde read concern on her wife’s face. She mouthed silently. “What’s up?”
Willow lowered herself to the bed, quietly mouthing a reply. “He’s hurt.”
Tara sat up, pulling the sheets over her naked chest. “Abbey, will you take your cousin into the bathroom to wash up?” She could see his milk mustache.
“Sure, mom.”
They watched the boy favor his right leg. Tara put on her sweat pants and nightshirt. “He’s limping, Will.”
“Maybe he just slept wrong.” Willow’s tone was calm. She pulled on her flannel pants and a singlet top.
Tara turned to her wife, concerned. “Slept wrong?” She rubbed her palms nervously. “The doctors said limping could be a sign.”
“I know, baby.” She held her wife’s nervous hands. “Don’t panic.”
“Don’t panic.” She forced a smile. “I’m not panicking.”
“You’re rubbing. First indication of panic.”
The blonde squeezed her hands in her armpits. “I’m not rubbing.” She flapped her elbows, keeping her hands in position. “See!”
The children came back into the room. The women watched the boy walk with a limp.
“Patrick?” Willow squatted down to his level. “Hey bud, how’s your leg today?” The redhead asked directly, knowing that he wouldn’t purposely hide an injury.
“I jumped.” He waved his arm toward the door, indicating that he’d been on the stairs. “But it hurt when I landed.” He rubbed his thigh.
“Let’s check it out.” The redhead helped him out of his pajama pants.
Tara winced at the sight of his thigh. The discoloration was deep and looked very painful. She watched her wife touch the skin but the boy barely reacted. They looked at one another with confusion.
“Patrick, honey… this looks like it happened before this morning. How about last night?”
“I don’t remember.”
Tara scooted to the floor beside her young charge. “Okay, why don’t you go put on your pants for physical therapy? I think we’re going to go and visit Dr. Taylor.”
Abbey looked at the bruise, then over at her parents. They could read her concern.
“Can you help him, Abbey girl?” Willow asked carefully. “Mom and I are going to get dressed.”
“Sure.” She walked him toward the door, scooping up the pajama pants.
“Wait for us, though. I’ll carry you down Patrick.” Willow closed the door behind them. “What the hell is that?”
“I’m not sure Will.” She pulled off her shirt. “But it looks bad. I’ve never seen him bruise like that before.”
“I think he’s broken it.”
“It can’t be… not again.” The blonde pulled a loose fitting t-shirt over her sports bra. She twisted her hair into a bunch and pinned it up. “You know what that means, don’t you?” She pulled on her jeans.
“Slow down, baby.” The redhead walked to her lover’s side. “Let’s take him in. Maybe it’s just a big bruise.”
“Right, a big bruise.” Tara pulled on her boots. “He’s had tons of them. Has them all the time. Growing boys bump and bruise a lot.” She rambled on, trying to convince herself it was a minor injury.
“You ready?” The redhead reached a hand to her wife.
“Let’s get him to see Adam.” Tara pointed to her half dressed wife. “Sweetie, you should think about pants.”
“What?” Willow stared in shock. “What?”
“You’re legs feel cold… at all?” Tara smiled.
The redhead looked down at her naked lower body. “Oh, you distracted me.”
“I’m noticing that.” She tossed a pair of red denim jeans to her lover. “As much as I love your legs I’d rather not share them with the rest of the world.”
“Mmm hmm.” Willow smiled. “Better?” She grabbed her wife around the waist.
“For now. Absolutely.” She inched toward the door, holding tightly to her wife.
“It’s going to be okay, Tara.”
“He’s a tough little guy. He’s been through worse.”
They carried the boy toward the stairs, trying to stay positive. The family made their way to the hospital and into their doctor’s office. They’d called ahead, notifying the staff of his injury. They greeted the regular visitors, paying special attention to the boy in Tara’s arms. Patrick noticed his thick, catalog sized, patient file on the office counter. He wasn’t in a great deal of pain so he was more excited to see Carol, his favorite nurse, and cared very little about his leg.
Willow and Abbey walked down to the cafeteria to get food for the hungry women and distract the young blonde’s concern for her cousin. In Abbey’s heart she’d claimed him as her brother and would only refer to him as that. She was a pro at the hospital visits. She kept a small notebook of games that she could play with him; connect the dots, tic tack toe and many other things to pass the time. Slowly, her science bag was transformed into a source of entertainment for long waiting room stays. She felt like his protector, an emotion that her mothers were quite aware of.
“Apple or orange?” The redhead asked.
Abbey eyed the display of candy. “May I have some cookies, ma?”
“An apple or an orange. I didn’t hear cookies in there anywhere. Did you?” She tapped her daughter on the nose.
“I added them.” She gave a hopeful grin.
Willow caught a glimpse of her beloved in their daughter’s smiling eyes. “Let’s not have all that sugar this early in the morning. I’m going to get mom an apple, would you like some fruit?”
“Does it come with cookies?”
The redhead looked at the giggling woman behind the lunch counter. “Have you grown any tasty cookie apples for this one, Sam?” She pointed to the little blonde.
“Sorry, little one.” She shook her head. “We’ve got apple pie or apple sauce or double chocolate chunk cookies.” She watched Willow shake her head when the word cookie came out. “Minus the cookie.”
“You said cookie, you can’t take it back.”
Willow smiled. “I’m officially overruling the cookie. Take it off the list.”
“Fine.” Abbey pouted. “Orange.”
The redhead tossed it to her daughter. “Do you remember when you asked me about why oranges are orange?”
Abbey made an agreeing sound. “Uh huh.” She continued. “Because of the chickens… right?”
They shared a knowing giggle. Abbey carried the apples and oranges as Willow paid. They made their way back to the office. Tara was pacing the small exam room. Little Patrick fiddled with the implements on the large office table, flipping the stirrups back and forth.
The doctor knocked gently before entering. He stretched his hand toward the redhead. “Willow, how are you?” He moved an arm around Tara. “And you? Don’t be nervous.” He could sense the blonde’s anxiety. “Let’s take a look.”
He waited as they unsnapped the side of the boy’s pants. They worried that he didn’t seem to feel as much pain as all the discoloration would imply. The doctor prodded the wounded area. “What happened, Patrick?”
“I jumped.” He stated without hesitation. He tone was proud, as he’d been happy to have full use of his limbs.
“We’re going to need some pictures pal.” The doctor looked at the other leg, then to Willow and Tara. “I’m going to send him down with Polly.”
The nurse came in with a wheel chair. “It’ll be about 15 minutes for the pediatric x-ray. You ready, big guy?”
He stretched on a hospital gown and Tara lowered him into the chair. “Should I come with you this time?” The blonde looked at his bright eyes.
He looked up at the Nurse.
“Simple hold your breath this time, pal,” referring to the x-ray’s invasiveness. She kicked off the break.
He smiled. “I like this one. It’s easier.” He looked at his cousin then back at his aunt. “Can Abbey come, too?”
They looked at the women.
Tara answered. “We’ll be right there.” She understood that the doctor wanted to speak with them both. “Abbey can be the tour guide.”
“Cool.” She followed the nurse.
The Rosenbergs knew their way around the hospital. Patrick’s recovery had been complicated and required many trips and hundreds of tests and x-rays. They’d become close friends with the staff members; most of which protected him as their own.
“It looks like the bone has fractured.” He sat on the stool beside the exam table. “It means he’s outgrown the metal rod. With discoloration that dark, I’d say it bent far enough to break the bone.”
TBC
Urn of Osiris"All things are connected like the blood that unites us all. Man did not weave the Web of Life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself."
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There's a sequel of this fantabulous story! 
at: 8/27/04 6:21 pm
Poor Patty! This sounds like it might interfere with the family vacation....... 
Hurry and get your butt over here girl! 
You can't leave me hanging like this!! 
